


All This Shit Is Weird

by BECandCall



Series: All This Shit Is Weird [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Chantry Bashing (Dragon Age), Chantry Issues, Circle Mages, Circle of Magi, Closing Fade Rifts, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Mage Abuse and Oppression, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Mage Rebellion, Mage Rights, Mage-Templar War, Mages (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars, Mages vs. Templars, Meet-Cute, Ostwick Circle, POV Inquisitor, Slow Burn, The Breach (Dragon Age), The Chantry (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras Writes, Walkthrough Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-07-11 14:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BECandCall/pseuds/BECandCall
Summary: The Chantry wants to erase the truth behind Inquisitor Theresa Trevelyan's rise to prominence. She has decided that she is not entirely happy with how they have  chosen to portray her and wants to tell her own story. Varric Tethras obliges.





	1. Chapter One: The Start

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I'm doing this! I'm a little intimidated by how long a fic like this will end up being by necessity, but I am in love with the story this game tells, and want to share my interpretation and experience with others! I have added only the tags that are relevant to the story as far as has been currently posted. Other tags will be added as their subjects are raised by the fic with each subsequent chapter. I am still new to posting here, so if I make a mistake in my formatting or there's a tag that doesn't belong feel free to point it out. I always welcome constructive critiques, as I want to improve and be able to make my stories as entertaining as possible. I hope you enjoy part one!
> 
> EDITED TO ADD: This is turning out to be a bit more canon-divergent than anticipated, so the tags have been updated to reflect this. It's not entirely AU territory, but we'll say it's "canon-adjacent" for now. :)

_T: So, where should I start?_  
_V: It’s your story. Start wherever you want._  
_T: I don’t know how to do this. You’re the writer._  
_V: Don’t worry about making it sound good; that’s my job. Just… start talking and we’ll see where it takes us._  
_T: … That’s not really the title you’re going with, is it?_  
_V: Oh, that’s uhh… just ignore those notes. Titles are the hardest part._  
_T: Harder than the beginning?_  
_V: Actually beginnings are easy._  
_T: So you say. I'm still not sure this is a good idea._  
_V: Come on, stop being so modest. I'm telling you, people will want to hear the story straight from the source._  
_T: It's not modesty. I just get the feeling the Chantry would prefer I stop contradicting their image of me._  
_V: Since when do you give a shit what the Chantry wants?_  
_T: Heh, fair point. But people always think they want the truth until they hear it._  
_V: Don't worry about what the readers will think. Believe me, you'll never make them all happy. You wanted to tell your story._  
_T: I did. I do._  
_V: So... go right ahead._

It started for everyone else the moment I tumbled out of the Fade to collapse onto a smoking ruin before amazed and terrified witnesses. For me, it started with falling. That is my first and only memory of the beginning.

Witnesses have said that I stepped out of the Fade, wreathed in light and flames, with Holy Andraste guiding me from behind. There have come to be many versions of this moment over the years; poems, epics, songs, theatrical reenactments, novels and so-called historical recountings. Eventually, even a new addition to the Chant was proposed by some of the most devout, though I myself have always denounced the idea. Nevermind the gall of trying to canonize me while I still live - the last thing the Chant needs is to be longer.

In truth, all I remember is falling. Things I would learn later would give me more context, but I haven’t been able to remember any of it on my own. Well, except for the fear. Years later, and the fear of that place stays with me. I had no idea what I was even afraid of, only that I had to escape. That was my last thought when I collapsed onto the rough ground and lost consciousness.

Escape.

Thus, my first perceptions upon waking were of deathly fear and a vague remnant of vertigo. It was difficult to see, so initially I was only aware of feeling… enclosed. I was disoriented and close to panicking, so I concentrated on steadying my breathing and heartbeat until I could make sense of things.

Soon, I was calm enough to realize that it was hard to see because the room I was in was small and dark. I could hear the gutter of torch flame, but the light seemed to be blocked by something. There was the sound of shifting metal and leather and steady breathing. I wasn’t alone. As I listened, I could hear several bodies around me, and as my eyes adjusted to the low light, I saw several pairs of armored boots forming an arc around me. Not only was I not alone; I was surrounded, a prisoner.

Whose prisoner?

I frowned and lifted my gaze. I was kneeling on a cold stone floor. That explained the aching in my knees and tingling in my legs. Maker knows how long I must have been sitting in that position. I tried to stand, but met with resistance and the sound of chains rattling. I looked down to see my hands bound in heavy shackles, which were in turn chained to the floor of the cell, directly in front of where I knelt. Someone clearly thought I was a threat. Still, this seemed excessive for a captured apostate.

A twinge in my left hand made me wince, and I twisted it around to see my palm. Initially, it looked normal, but then I felt… not quite pain, but something more akin to the tingling in my legs, only sharper, fiercer, angrier. All concentrated into a small point in the center of my palm. As I stared, a bright light suddenly flashed, and I gasped, blinking at the intensity. What was that? I checked my palm again, but the light was gone, though the tingling remained, steadily pulsing. I heard some of the soldiers curse and step back, and took no comfort in their fear. Frightened soldiers too often lead to dead mages.

Before I could begin to make sense of the situation, however, I would be introduced to two of the most important people in my life.

Much has been made of the Left and Right Hands of Divine Justinia V, and rightly so. Both are fierce, valiant, and determined women, unwavering in their faith even as their understanding of it changed. That much I can confirm as truth. The rest is… rather more complicated.

_V: Pffeh! “Complicated” isn’t the word I’d use._  
_T: Hey, don’t interrupt my train of thought!_  
_V: Right, sorry, ignore me._

What do I mean by that…

Well, for starters, if Cassandra had had her way, I’d likely have been killed before even waking. That is something the stories often forget. My first impression of her as she came marching into the room was that she wanted blood, and I was the most likely target.

You have to understand - I am a mage. Too many people have tried to ignore or downplay this, but it is part of who I am, and it is important to me that it is not forgotten. I had spent most of my life until that point inside the Circle. For as long as I could remember, I had been looked upon with a mixture of resentment and fear, and all actions of mine had been treated with suspicion. I listened to them sing of my evil nature practically every day for years during compulsory Chant attendance. At any given moment a Templar could decide my life wasn’t worth the risk and snuff it out and would likely never have to give a reason beyond “What if...”

All of this meant that I was keenly aware of my precarious situation, that anything I did could be twisted and used as justification for my execution. I felt, as I so often had before, helpless. So I held still, made sure my securely bound hands were visible, and kept my gaze lowered. And I tried very hard not to wince as the two women approached me and stopped.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t just kill you now,” the angry woman demanded as she paced around me like a predator sizing up its prey. I kept my face still, but my heart dropped at her words. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

I frowned, trying to process what she was saying. The Conclave… Mages and Templars gathered together for the first time since the mages had risen up in rebellion to talk peace. Destroyed? Did she mean literally? All chance of peace certainly gone. Everyone dead… Except for me. That was when I began to understand the severity of my situation. I wasn’t just an apostate to them, I was a mass murderer. And likely nothing I could say would have changed their minds.

The woman was now standing next to me, and as she reached down I tensed, but she only grabbed my hand; my left hand, the one with the unnatural glow.

“Explain this!” She was practically fuming as she held my hand aloft, straining the shackles that held it locked to the stone beneath us.

“I… can’t,” was all I managed to say.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Her grip on my hand tightened painfully. My heart began to race and I had to stop myself from hyperventilating as her demands crashed down on me and I realized I had no answers for her. I tried to come up with something, anything to tell her, but there was… nothing.

My last memories were disjointed, broken, missing. I had no recollection of even being at the Conclave, let alone an explosion. I began to tremble, losing control of my composure. I had nothing to tell them, because I couldn’t remember anything they might want to know. I was sure in that moment I was going to die.

Desperately, I insisted, “I don’t know what that is, or how it got there!”

“You’re lying!” The woman moved to strike me and I shut my eyes instinctively against the killing blow.

No blow landed; instead there was a shuffling of movement, and then I heard another voice say, “We need her, Cassandra.” I opened my eyes to see the second woman had moved to intercept the first. Her demeanor was much calmer than her counterpart’s, and I hoped against all likelihood that she at least might listen to me.

“Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!” I shouted, wanting to say it just so it would be heard, not expecting it to be believed.

The second woman turned to face me. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?” she asked. I noticed both their voices were accented, and wondered if we were still anywhere near the Conclave, or indeed even within the borders of Ferelden.

I reached into my memories, trying to make sense of what must have been my last waking moments. An image came to mind of landscape passing by me quickly. “I remember running,” I started tentatively. Why had I been running? That sense of urgency, it was from… “Things were chasing me. And then...” Had I been running from them, or toward something? There had been a steep incline, and at the top… “A woman?”

That got both women’s attention. Their looks were hungry as they waited for me to continue.

“She reached out to me, but then…” Then everything had shifted, and I was falling, but why and from where I couldn’t be sure.

The women stared at me a moment longer, seeming to hope that I would have more detail, but there was nothing after that, and so I said nothing. The angry one - Cassandra, the second woman had called her - seemed to have calmed somewhat. She broke her gaze with me and directed her companion - Leliana, as she was apparently named - to leave, something about a forward camp, and…

“I will take her to the rift.”

As the calmer of the two walked out of the room and Cassandra started toward me again I flinched, but her anger had subsided, and she only knelt to undo my shackles. My hope at possibly being given my freedom was short-lived, however, as she firmly bound my hands before me with rope instead. At least I was able to walk under my own power now.

“What did happen?” I ventured as she lifted me to my feet. I stumbled briefly, my legs still tingling painfully from the position I’d been left in. I lurched forward, but Cassandra caught and held me until I regained my balance. It seemed to take her little effort to hold me upright, and I felt her solid strength as she waited patiently. She seemed an entirely different woman from the cloud of wrath that had stormed in demanding answers from me only a moment ago.

When I had composed myself, she released me. “It will be easier to show you,” she said, and began to walk out of the room, clearly expecting me to follow. Having no other recourse and no reason to stay, I started after her.

I was concentrating on not falling over again for the first few steps, so I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings as I was led down a dark corridor and up a flight of stairs. The floor above was far more open, and I assumed from the high ceiling it must have been a chantry. Cassandra checked that I was still close, then turned and headed toward the large doors at the end of the great hall. Compared to the prison cell below, the hall felt expansive. My breathing came easier without the oppressive stone so close around me.

Still, it was a modest size for a chantry, and I was suddenly confronted with large wooden doors being opened by silent guards who nodded in deference to Cassandra. Blinding light poured in from outside, and my eyes needed time to adjust. It was another moment before I realized the light wasn’t coming entirely from the sun. There was a hue to it that was wrong, somehow; wrong in the same way as the light coming from my hand. I blinked to adjust my sight, and quickly my gaze was drawn upward.

I saw it then for the first time, and my world tilted.


	2. Chapter Two: A Giant Hole in the Sky Spells Doom for Us All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra Pentaghast escorts her prisoner toward an unknown destination. Trevelyan isn't sure if the path leads to her death or her freedom. The truth, as ever, is a bit more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two! Apologies for the long wait between chapter posts, and thanks for your patience! I will try to keep up a more regular schedule, but unfortunately I am absurdly picky with my own writing. Thank you for reading and I always welcome comments!

_V: You okay?_  
T: Sorry. I… still see it sometimes, when I dream. I’ve never really forgotten that feeling.   
V: We can take a break, if you need it.   
T: No, I’m fine. I can keep going.   
V: Okay, if you’re sure.   
T: I will take a swig of that flask though. 

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra was saying, but I was barely listening. I could only gape in terror beneath its sickly light. Breach was a kind name; to me it looked like a gaping wound, tearing through the sky and spreading infection. As I watched, dark shapes fell from its depths to the earth below, and a sound like lightning nearly deafened me. Everything about it seemed corrupted, twisted, and evil. 

“...It’s not the only such rift, only the largest,” Cassandra continued. “All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” 

“An explosion can do that?” I asked incredulously, still staring at the horror above, unable to look away. 

“This one did,” Cassandra said plainly. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

As if it heard her, the Breach rumbled a great, deep threat, its light flashed and blinded me again, and then---

I cried out as the sensation in my hand sharpened; it felt as if it was burning my very flesh away, and I could feel it spreading across my palm, eating away at my hand. Never before had I known pain like that. After a moment that felt like an age, the burning lessened. I opened my eyes, half expecting my hand to be nothing but bone and seared tendon, but it was whole. The ground dug into my aching knees; I must have collapsed in the throes of my agony. I was breathing heavily, and could feel a bead of sweat trailing down my temple. 

Cassandra stood over me, a silhouette against the cursed light. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

That was a lot of information to process at once. And it is killing you… The words echoed in my mind, getting louder with each repetition and setting my head to pounding. I clung to the words that had followed, trying not to let panic take over. 

“You say it may be the key,” I began to ask. I had to stop and clear my throat, surprised at how hoarse my voice had become. “To doing what?”

“Closing the Breach,” Cassandra answered, still standing over me. “Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours.” She was eyeing me carefully, and the way she spoke of my fate as merely an afterthought made it clear she cared for me only inasmuch as I seemed to be tied directly to the Breach. 

“You still think I did this? To myself?” I asked, gesturing at my hand incredulously. 

“Not intentionally. Something clearly went wrong,” Cassandra answered, lifting one brow. She sounded so sure of her suspicion. 

“And if I’m not responsible?”

“Someone is, and you are our only suspect. You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way.” 

She made no mention of whether I would survive the proving, or what it could possibly entail, or whether what she was asking - demanding - of me was even possible. 

“So I don’t really have a choice about this.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my tone, and was not sorry when I saw her answering scowl. 

“None of us has a choice.” Cassandra reached down and pulled me to my feet in an instant, leading me away from the building before I could regain my balance. I stumbled, but she managed to keep me on my feet with only her hand wrapped firmly around my upper arm. She kept her pace slow but purposeful. Between her strength and my weak legs still slowly recovering, I had no illusions of escape while she was close. 

As we continued on, I saw small buildings of log and thatch sparsely assorted, with a simple dirt pathway cutting through and leading down toward a modest but sturdy wooden gate. The chantry towered above it all, clearly meant to be the focus of this development, meager as it was. Lining the pathway was a throng of people, many of whom were staring upward with expressions of horror. Some made protective gestures, others openly wept. Those that weren’t focused on the sky, however, were glaring at me. 

The hatred in their eyes was palpable as they followed our slow progress toward the gate. I had long ago grown used to the sneering suspicion of Templars, but this was different; these people wanted my head. 

Cassandra’s kept pace for both of us, steady and resolute. She seemed less agitated with the situation than I, but then again she wasn’t on the receiving end of those looks. For the first time, I was glad for her sturdy presence. 

“The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia,” she was saying. “The Conclave was hers.” There was a slight tremble to her voice. “A chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”

I frowned, remembering her earlier explanation of how the Breach came to be. Caused by an explosion… Oh, Maker. I looked back at the crowd, now seeing the pain behind the hatred in their glares. Their Divine dead, along with any hope for peace. And, naturally, they blamed the sole survivor of the disaster - me. 

It’s a wonder I’ve lasted this long, I thought in amazement. The skin between my shoulder blades prickled with the collective resentment of dozens - hundreds? - of souls who thought they had every reason to hate me. A part of me couldn’t help but wonder if they might be right, and I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

We reached the gate, and two soldiers dutifully opened it, nodding in deference to Cassandra. Clearly, she held authority here. I remembered none of the guards had objected when she unshackled me. Not to mention none of the mob behind us had dared make a move on me with her as my escort. Was she the one in charge? I noticed belatedly she wore the symbol of Andraste prominently across her chestplate. Not a templar; she lacked the uniform. What then? 

“We lash out, like the sky,” Cassandra continued. “But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.” She glanced upward then, but though her gaze was pointed toward the Breach - indeed it was impossible not to look in its direction when looking up - she seemed to be looking past it. Her expression was sorrowful, pensive. I got the feeling her words were as much for her own benefit as mine. She stood in silence for a moment; then, as if coming to a decision, she reached to the dagger at her side. 

I tensed, and began looking around for a likely path of escape, fearing this had all been a ruse to lead me willingly to my own execution. I discovered to my dismay we were on a bridge, with the gate shut behind me and a second gate still shut ahead as the only visible means of entry or exit. 

Cassandra turned to me, her expression resolute, but the sorrow was gone. “There will be a trial,” she said as she took a step toward me. “I can promise no more.” 

What? I froze temporarily in confusion, and in that swift instant she had closed the gap between us and in one smooth flick of her wrist, the rope that bound my hands was cut. My hands were free. 

“Come, it is not far.” She sheathed her dagger, and without another glance to me, she turned and marched down the bridge toward the next gate. 

I stood there in amazement for a moment. A trial? Mages didn’t get trials. I stared at her receding back; she was clearly not waiting for me, confident that I would follow, having no other recourse. Could it be possible that she was unaware I was a mage? 

I contemplated this as I rubbed my sore wrists, and started down the path at a swift pace. 

“Where are you taking me?” I called after her. 

Cassandra slowed enough to allow me to catch up to her, but did not turn around. “Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,” she said over her shoulder. 

I tried not to think too hard about what that meant, still puzzling out the last few moments since I woke. In all that time, no one had addressed me as an apostate or mage, no one threatened imposing the Rite of Tranquility, and as far as I could tell I was not found with any kind of staff or spellbook. There was the mark, yes, but they didn’t seem to equate that with magic; or at least, not the same kind taught and regulated by the Chantry and the Circles. Indeed, this was certainly like no magic I had ever heard of in all my years of study and training. 

It was not only possible that they were unaware of my status, but entirely likely, given the circumstances. Which meant that if I could gain enough distance, escape was within my grasp after all. 

I looked out over the snow-covered landscape, trying to judge my chances at surviving in the wild. Unfortunately, the sickly green light covering the hills was an unpleasant reminder that things were not quite so simple. My eyes lifted of their own volition up to the sky once more, at the massive doom looming ever present above us all. First, I would have to take care of that. Then, I would plan my escape. 

Assuming I survived the first part.


	3. The Element of Surprise, Up in Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevelyan witnesses firsthand the horrific aftermath of the explosion caused by the Breach. Soon after, she sees her chance to escape, but can she just ignore what she's seen?

_V: Wait, is that true?_  
_T: I promised you the truth, didn’t I? I wasn’t naive enough to believe I would actually get a fair trial._  
_V: It’s just so weird to think of you actually just… up and leaving._  
_T: We both know I’m not the selfless hero of legend the Chantry keeps trying to make me out to be._  
_V: Well, who ever is? Shit, I doubt even Andraste herself lived up to her own legend._  
_T: Ugh, please spare me the comparisons to Andraste._  
_V: Right, right, sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it. Let’s just pick up where you left off._

I had thought the Breach was the worst thing I would see that day, but I was unprepared for the devastation caused by the explosion that created it. 

In all the many histories of battles I had read, attention was rarely paid to what comes after victory or defeat. Still, I imagined it must have looked something like the scene laid out before me on that bridge. Wounded soldiers rested here and there, clutching wounds, staring into the distance with glazed eyes, openly weeping or crying out in pain. Many looked lost, questions left unspoken because they had no one to ask. None here had expected to confront death any more than I had today. There had been no enemy to defeat, no glory to be won. Only that gaping void above, and the horror left in its shadow below. 

Chantry sisters and revered mothers tended to some, offering comfort or reciting the Chant to gathered listeners. One young looking man clutched his knees into a fetal position, rocking back and forth. His mouth moved, but no sound came out, or else he was whispering too softly to be heard. As we came near, a sister came to check on him. She crouched to lay a hand on his shoulder, but he did not respond. She spoke to him in gentle tones, but he seemed not to hear her. After a moment, she sadly stood and moved on. He continued rocking as we passed him. 

There were bodies as well; lifeless, mangled, bloodied, and gruesome, with glassy-eyed, expressions of surprise or pain telling the story of their final moments. They lay in rows, waiting to be covered with blankets or canvas by the living, to be wrapped and tied and prepared for the pyre. Heavy, limp bundles were being loaded onto wagons, ready to be carried off. More mothers and sisters were mumbling the appropriate words over them to send them on their journey into the Void.

Since that day, I’ve seen many battles and witnessed more death and destruction than I care to remember. Each one weighs heavily on me, but none so much as that first day on the bridge. 

_V: Here._  
_T: No, I’m fine._  
_V: Take it. You need a drink. Bad._  
_T: ...Thanks._  
_V: Go ahead and finish it if you want._  
_T: Are you kidding? We haven’t even gotten to the really hard part yet._  
_V: Do you mean the Breach, or… ?_  
_T: No, I don’t mean the Breach._

The bridge was a relatively short distance across, but it felt far longer. Neither Cassandra nor I spoke as we took in the terrible scene around us. The soldiers at the far end let us through the second gate without comment, and indeed barely seemed to notice us at all except for a nearly automatic nod in deference to Cassandra as one of them handed her a shield. 

The path turned left past the gate and up a hill where it ran up against the edge of a forest. The air was cold out beyond the shelter of the village’s meager walls, but the wind was still and quiet. It would have felt isolated but for the barricades and frightened soldiers that lined the path in silence, watching the hill ahead with weapons drawn. 

I glanced curiously at them as we approached, but just then the silence was broken by several men appearing over the crest and running toward us, crying out in fear about the end of the world as they came. They did not stop for us, nor did the soldiers attempt to bar their way, and they banged on the gate behind us until they were let through. The gate shut firmly once more a moment later. 

I frowned, my dread growing. Something is very wrong. An explosion would certainly mean casualties, but why the armed soldiers? Why the barred gates? Why barricades and drawn weapons? They were deathly afraid of something, and it couldn’t be just the Breach above if they were expecting it to come hurtling over that hill at any moment. And whatever it was, we were going toward it. 

Cassandra, of course, paid no attention to any of this as she continued her grim march forward, one hand resting on the pommel of her sword, the shield hoisted onto her shoulders. She seemed to know what to expect, at least. I eyed the treeline once more, wondering how far I would get if I started running right now. As I was surveying the density of the trees for sufficient cover, however, I was blinded by a green flash of light followed closely by another wave of searing pain, much like the one that struck me back in the village. 

I felt my knees hit the hard, frozen ground as I collapsed once again. My voice sounded hoarse and strangled as I cried out, and I struggled to regain my composure as I gripped my left wrist and stared at my palm as the light pulsed, flickered, then faded. It took some time before I was able to steady my ragged breathing. 

“The pulses are coming faster now,” Cassandra noted as she stood over me in patient vigil. “The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear.” She had been looking upward, but now turned her gaze down to me. “The more demons we face.” 

Demons… 

My thoughts were scattered, but I tried to focus through the pounding headache that had started. Demons would explain what everyone was so terrified of, what they were fortifying against and guarding the village from. But they also meant something far more disturbing. Demons coming from the Breach could mean only one thing. 

No. 

One thing at a time. I shook my head against the thought, focusing instead on standing, refusing Cassandra’s offered hand, but noting her nod of approval when I was on my own two feet and ready to proceed. So she respects strength? Or stubbornness? Or perhaps she just doesn’t distinguish between the two. 

We continued on down the road. By now, we were over the hill and out of sight of the gate and its guards. It was eerily quiet without the scurrying and barked orders of other soldiers nearby. I took the brief calm as a chance to think through my situation more carefully. 

Examining my hand, I saw that the light had nearly disappeared, but a narrow slit remained, an ember of sickly green. I could still feel it in me, barely concealed beneath my flesh. Its cool pallor contrasted with my normally warm brown tone. A thunderous warning emanated from the Breach above, a grim reminder that I was anchored to this disaster whether I liked it or not. I watched it churn and rumble above us, discolouring the landscape below just as the ember in my hand discoloured the skin around it. 

“How did I survive the blast?” I asked. It seemed unfathomable. 

“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious,” Cassandra answered, not turning her head as she continued to march just ahead of me. “They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.” 

The woman at the top of the hill, I remembered. Had she been helping me, or chasing me? Why did I remember falling if I was seen stepping out of a rift? Every answer I got only led to more questions. Nothing about this made any sense. Cassandra paused at last, and nodded in the direction of the valley spread below and before us. 

“Everything farther in the valley was laid to waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.” 

I looked where she had beckoned and saw snow-laden hillsides, bordered by the mountains behind me and at the far horizon. The Breach had so discoloured the sky that I could scarcely tell whether it was day or night. Every so often, a meteor trailing dark clouds would issue forth from the Breach, falling to the ground below. Flames dotted the landscape, growing more concentrated in a certain spot some distance from us in the heart of the valley. Where the Temple used to stand, I realized. 

From here, I could see where the path we were taking was leading us. We were descending into the valley onto a small bridge, passing over the river where it curved back and forth through the uneven terrain. 

Before we were halfway over the bridge, however, a wall of green light blocked our path, and I felt the impact of what must have been one of those meteors as it struck the stone. I had no time to collect myself; the ground dropped out from underneath me and I tumbled end over end, coming to land hard on my side. I felt a sharp pain in my ribs and hoped they weren’t broken as I tried to regain my bearings. 

I had fallen to the river below, which thankfully had frozen over in the harsh mountain cold. A grunt and movement from behind me told me Cassandra had landed nearby. As I looked back to check, another meteor surged down and struck the river only yards from us with a deafening crash. I quickly tried to stand, thinking to get to the river shore in case the impact had cracked the ice. Cassandra stood her ground, sword at the ready and facing the spot where the meteor had struck. 

I followed her gaze and saw no impact crater, but instead a dark shadow. I watched in growing horror as the shadow formed into black crystals that jutted upward from the ice. The crystals swiftly twisted themselves into a figure that could only be described as the ghastly shadow in the vague shape of a person. 

Oh, sweet Maker! I hadn’t wanted to face the implication before when Cassandra had mentioned demons coming from the rifts, but here was unavoidable proof of a truly disturbing realization. If demons were coming from the Breach, that could only mean it linked directly to the Fade. And a hole that large that led to the Fade could only mean worldwide catastrophe. 

I stood, frozen in horror with the knowledge that there was nowhere I could run that would allow me to escape this doom. The Breach would continue to grow, causing untold damage to the Veil, nevermind how much it was already strained. The Veil was the only barrier separating the waking world from the Fade. And if that collapsed? There was no telling how much suffering would be unleashed upon the world then. 

“Stay behind me!” Cassandra did not spare a single glance for me; in an instant, her shield was hoisted in her off hand and she was toe to toe with the shadow, and I was alone. 

Run, my mind whispered. With Cassandra distracted this was likely the best chance I would get. A second shadow began to take shape barely three paces from me. Run.

Cassandra was still locked in her own battle and could not stop me, and this second demon was between her and me. I could run, and she would be trapped, unable to pursue. But that would mean leaving her outnumbered and flanked. 

Stay behind me! Her last words lingered in my thoughts. She hadn’t hesitated to protect me, even though I was her prisoner. Even though she believed me to be a murderer and the one responsible for all the death and destruction she had seen these last few hours. As the shadow rose from the ground and began to solidify, I spared one last glance at the shoreline… and there, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a staff laying haphazardly across an abandoned crate. 

Looking back now, I can appreciate the significance of this moment. I was at a crossroads, but didn’t realize it then. At the time, I only saw the clear choice presented to me - run, and leave this woman to her fate, taking my chances that I could gain enough distance from the Breach that it would no longer hurt me. Or stay and fight, and do what I could to stop this mess from getting worse. 

_V: Not much of a choice, when you put it like that._  
_T: You’re right, it wasn’t much of a choice at all._  
_V: There’s the Inquisitor I know._

I picked up the staff. 

Cursing my foolishness and the Maker for His sense of timing, I turned to face the demon. It was a Shade, the studious part of my mind recalled. I had studied all the various spirit types, had been trained in the most effective battle strategies for each, practiced and drilled regularly ever since I passed my Harrowing, like the good little tool I was intended to be. Still, it is altogether a different matter to face one in the flesh, with no senior enchanters standing ready to jump in if I got in over my head. I had no idea if I was ready for this, but my decision was made. No turning back now. 

The Shade was already advancing on me, and there was no more time to think. With a steadying breath, I reached down into myself, to the power that sat ever ready at my core. I felt the familiar spark in response to my summon, and channeled it into the staff, where it readily flowed and sizzled with potential, mingling with the energy infused there; winter energy, I could tell from the feel of it. How fitting, given the climate. I focused on that energy, getting a feel for its limits and potential, projecting it toward my intended target. All of this happened within a single moment. 

I let my training take over as I pointed the staff and unleashed a flurry of icy blasts against the advancing Shade. The third strike hit home and froze it in place, exactly as I’d hoped. Before it could break free I spun the staff overhead and brought it down with a solid crack, summoning a lighting bolt down on top of us both. I felt the power of the storm spell surround me for just an instant, let it energize me as I lifted the staff to unleash another series of freezing blasts. I began a steady march backward, continuing my assault as it followed, keeping myself always just out of its reach while it frantically lashed out at me, ignoring the damage I dealt it though I knew it was hurting. 

Before I knew it, the thing let out a pitiful shriek and dissolved before me. Urgently, I looked across the ice to Cassandra, but she had just finished dispatching her own foe and was turning back toward me. I scanned our surroundings, not wanting to be caught off guard again, and was relieved to see no more shadows moving nearby. 

“It’s ov---” I started, but my breath caught as I was suddenly nose-to-tip with a blade, and Cassandra’s fierce glare. 

“Drop your weapon! Now.” 

You’ve got to be kidding me! I stared back at her, incredulous at her command. I wanted to shout at her, to vent all my frustration at this madness onto her. I wanted to swing that stupid staff around and knock sense into her thick skull. For the briefest instant, I regretted not taking my chance to run. 

“Do you really think I need a staff to be dangerous?” I challenged her. 

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“I haven’t used my magic on you yet.” 

I stood my ground, meeting Cassandra’s glare with my own, bolstered by my righteous fury at a lifetime of imprisonment and suspicious glares, of always being treated like a sleeping demon no matter how hard I worked to prove myself otherwise. I had given up my one advantage, my one hope of getting a fair trial without the taint of my abilities poisoning my chances. I may as well own this moment, with head held high. 

The river had grown quiet in the aftermath of our small battle, with only my own panting and the occasional cracking of the ice to be heard. Finally, Cassandra sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“You’re right,” she admitted grudgingly as she sheathed her sword. “You don’t need a staff, but you should have one. I cannot protect you.” 

I could scarcely believe my eyes as she turned and started walking away. Had I just won that standoff? I started across the frozen surface after her, but after a few paces, she paused and turned back to look at me. Her expression had softened, and she looked almost… Remorseful? I waited, wary, in case she changed her mind. 

“I should remember that you did not attempt to run,” she said with a contemplative frown, almost as if to herself. Then, she turned back to the path ahead of her and continued on. 

I stood there, amazed at the direction things had just gone. I got the feeling we had both just entered uncharted territory. A mage and a representative of the Chantry, choosing to trust each other. Cassandra had chosen to move forward, once more without looking back. How could I do any less?

Before she could get too far ahead of me, I moved to follow after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was around the point where the themes I wanted to emphasize with this walkthrough fic started to come into focus. I have done my best to lay the groundwork for them, and hopefully they work within the greater framework of the story. As always, I appreciate any feedback and constructive criticisms!


	4. And Then There Were Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra and her prisoner run into trouble, and more company. Trevelyan is only just beginning to grasp the scale of what lies ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at chapter four, and two fan favorites join our merry band! This chapter was particularly tough for me. I had to try to strike a good balance between what's in the game and my own interpretation. Also, describing magic and anything Fade related is way harder than it seems! I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

More fighting followed, and Cassandra and I fell into a pattern; she took point, making herself the bigger target, while I stayed at a distance and hurled ice spells using my newly acquired staff to slow the demons’ progress. If too many got near, I would summon storms with my own power reserves to strike at them with lightning. It sounds simple, but even with the staff to supplement my abilities, it was draining. 

Until that day, I had never endured any kind of sustained fighting. The most I had ever done was quick ambushes, meant only to defend against any Templars on our trail, then turn and flee with the few of us who remained from Ostwick’s Circle. All Circle mages are trained in battle magic, of course. Unfortunately, there is no way to prepare us for the stamina required in extended combat. 

So much of what I experienced that first day after the Breach opened was entirely new, but all novelty was wasted on me while I fought battle after battle. Each one left me more drained, and it wasn’t long before my feet began to drag. I don’t know how long we were out there; Maker, I wasn’t even sure when I’d last eaten. Cassandra seemed to know where we were going, and I didn’t question her. We traveled for a while in unspoken understanding in this way; her in the lead, me trailing behind, setting my course by those squared shoulders of hers, panting and heaving and wondering where her endless energy came from. 

After some time - I couldn’t say how long exactly - I heard what had become the familiar sounds of fighting, seemingly coming from just over a rise not far ahead. It took another moment before I picked out the distinct sounds of spellcraft. Cassandra heard it too, and picked up her pace to reach the top of the hill. I sighed and wearily followed.

Once I caught up with her, still trying to catch my breath, I was greeted with yet another spectacle I would not come to appreciate the oddity of until much later. Two combatants - an elf and a dwarf - faced off against a handful of demons. I knew the elf for an apostate almost immediately from the feel of his spells and the make of his staff. The dwarf had what may have been a crossbow, though its design was unusual, and he was loading and shooting bolts at incredible speed into the enemies before him. 

The true oddity, however, came not from the two fighters but from what they fought beneath: what could only be described as a tear in the air, hovering several yards off the ground, out of reach. The tear itself wasn’t from anything solid that I could see; it was an opening in the air itself, with nothing below or behind it that it touched. The ground below it was pulsing, and shadows took shape and clawed at the unlikely pair still holding strong against them. Shades again, some part of me noted. Its sickly green aura matched the glow coming from my hand, and as we drew nearer I felt the tingling in my left palm intensify, as if drawn toward it. 

For some reason, it filled me with dread. I didn’t understand why, except that it was obviously connected to the Breach. And to me. My palm, this new horror and the demons it seemed to spawn, the great gaping wound in the sky above… I was part of all this, somehow, whether I wanted to admit it or not. 

Cassandra said lunged forward without waiting for me, her sword already drawn. Not taking the time to wonder why we were helping two strangers, I pushed my thoughts aside, hoisted my staff once more and set about helping dispatch this latest foul throng. 

It went far quicker with more to help, and soon the last of the Shades were dispatched. Before I had a chance to take a breath, however, I felt a hand wrap tightly around my left wrist. I turned in momentary panic, thinking I had missed an enemy, and met the urgent gaze of the apostate elf. 

“Quickly, before more come through!” he shouted, thrusting my hand up to the gash in the air. 

Energy flowed through my hand, both like and unlike the sensation I felt before when the Breach expanded. My nerves were on fire, but it wasn’t painful; or at least, pain wasn’t the right word for it. It poured into me through the mark from the rift, filling me with that fire, making everything burn and leaving char and ashes in its wake. Instinctively, I recoiled, but whether because of the elf’s grip or some other force, I was helpless, frozen with my arm outstretched. All I could do was wait, terror-stricken, for it to fill me until I burst open like the sky above. 

Then, suddenly, it was over. The tear before us was gone, and though my hand trembled in the aftermath, I was whole. The searing had subsided, leaving only the memory behind. 

_V: Was it like that every time?_  
_T: Yes._  
_V: Shit… It never looked like you enjoyed it, but I can’t believe I never noticed how… intense it was for you._  
_T: I was unprepared that first time, but believe it or not I got used to it after a while. I just wish I knew a better way to describe it. Like… being set on fire and dipped in a frozen pond at the same time._  
_V: That certainly sounds painful._  
_T: I know, but it’s more complicated than that._  
_V: … How about a stronger drink?_

The apostate released my hand. My ears rang, my vision was spotty, and my skin prickled. I felt all eyes on me, as I looked to the apostate in bewilderment. 

“What did you do?” I demanded. 

“I did nothing,” he responded in an even tone. “The credit is yours.” Credit? I was incredulous. He could have killed me with that little stunt, and he was implying that I was thanking him? 

Cassandra was beside us now, looking between me and the now empty spot in the air just above us. I flexed my palm, still sensitive, and stared up at the same spot. Only a moment ago it held what must have been a tear in the Veil, a direct hole into the Fade. 

“I closed that thing…” I said aloud as the connection at last hit me. 

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand.” The elf glanced up at the sky where it was still green and torn and angry. Then, he returned his gaze to me. “I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake, and it seems I was correct.” 

He sounded undaunted by all this, and unsurprised in his assertion. I got the impression that he was used to being correct, or at least being believed. How strange for an apostate to be so confident in his own authority. 

Cassandra stepped forward, and I tensed, wondering what she would make of him and his theory. Instead of accusations or scrutiny, however, she asked with barely concealed hope sparking in her eyes, “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself?” 

How interesting. Was she desperate for any possibility of victory, or did she actually trust him?

“Possibly,” he nodded, then turned his dark eyes back to me. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” His tone hadn’t changed as he spoke, sounding for all the world as though this was a perfectly normal thing to tell someone. 

Imagine having the fate of the world suddenly depend on you; the staggering weight of that responsibility, stated as plainly as a comment about the weather. I couldn’t begin to fathom the scale, the enormity of all it implied… Just beginning to think about it was making me dizzy. 

A casual voice broke through the haze just then. 

“Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” The dwarf stepped forward, adjusting his coat and bearing a ready smirk. “Varric Tethras,” he said as he looked up at me. “Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” With that last comment, he transferred his gaze to Cassandra and offered her a wink, which she met with a roll of her eyes and disgusted grunt. 

Well, at least I’m not the only one she isn’t pleased with today, I thought. Still, I couldn’t make any sense of who these two were or how Cassandra seemed to know them. Varric’s name sounded familiar, somehow, but I couldn’t place it. “Are you with the Chantry, or… ?”

The elf chuckled in response, and I immediately felt foolish for even asking. “Was that a serious question?” 

Varric, at least, was more tactful. “Technically, I’m a prisoner, just like you.” 

No, not just like me, I thought grimly, clenching my fist; it still tingled, though the sensation was beginning to subside. So it closes rifts. That was… something, at least. More than I had ten minutes ago. 

Cassandra and Varric were now bickering over his reasons for remaining. It seemed he was meant to speak to the Divine about something, but recent events being what they were, he was left stranded here and had taken it upon himself to offer assistance. The elf, who I realized had yet to tell me his name, was setting about gathering his pack and reorganizing its contents. None of them seemed very concerned with me at the moment. 

My mind was already going to work trying to make sense of all that had happened, but each time my thoughts returned to the Breach, reason was overwhelmed by dread. How much will it hurt when I try to close that? I had to wonder. Panic quickened my pulse, and my hands trembled. No! I couldn’t afford to lose it now. With slow, deep breaths, I managed to regain my focus. Keep it small, I told myself. Keep it simple. 

“So I closed the rift,” I said, getting everyone’s attention. “What now?” Step by step. Simple tasks. Don’t think about the big picture. That was how I was going to get through this.

“Now we go to meet Leliana,” Cassandra answered. I recognized the name - the second woman who had interrogated me back at the village. I wondered how she could have gotten so far ahead of us before remembering that we had been waylaid at every turn by demons. Likely she had the good sense or luck to stay out of sight along her way.

“What a great idea!” Varric exclaimed, hoisting the strange crossbow over his shoulder. It looked unbearably heavy, but he seemed to have no trouble with it at all. 

“Absolutely not!” Cassandra turned back to Varric. There was a story there, but I doubted either of them were willing to share just then. Seeming to realize her outburst was disproportionate, she pulled back slightly, and when she spoke again her tone was more even. “Your help is appreciated Varric, but---”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric interrupted. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore.” There was an unsettling thought. Could that mean the fighting would be worse the further we descended? I remembered with despair how exhausted I was. “You need me.” That last point was delivered almost gleefully, and elicited another disgusted grunt from Cassandra. I was now determined to know the story between these two. I was also sure to get a less violent response from Varric, so I resolved to ask him about it later. 

If there is a later… The thought formed before I could quash it. Between the pain in my hand, the rifts that spat out demons, and the Breach itself, death was becoming less abstract with each passing moment. 

Ultimately, Cassandra must have decided that arguing against more allies was foolish. With a resigned sigh, she oriented herself in the direction we were heading and called to us to follow. I was grateful; the aches and fatigue set off by continuing our relentless march was enough for now at least to distract me from the looming terror of what we were marching toward. 

The apostate moved beside me as we walked and offered a polite smile, still behaving as though this were an average day for him. 

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” he said. I smiled weakly in response, glad for more distraction from my own thoughts. “I’m pleased to see you still live.” 

Still? 

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’,” Varric clarified, quickening his steps to keep up. 

Another delightful thought to repress. It took great effort not to stare in horror down at the mark embedded into my palm. I breathed in, slowly, trying to calm the rising panic - and bile - before it overwhelmed me. Solas was looking at me, sympathy apparent in that steady gaze of his. He probably knew better than anyone else what this thing was doing to me. Probably more than me. 

“You seem to know a great deal about it all,” I remarked to him. It sounded more bitter than I had intended. 

“Like you, Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra explained unnecessarily over her shoulder. She was already several paces ahead. 

“Technically, all mages are now apostates,” Solas corrected. He was right, I knew. Since the Circles voted for rebellion, none of us could call ourselves citizens of the Chantry any longer. Still, I could tell Solas’s techniques were not Circle-trained. He was an apostate long before the Circles were abolished. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage,” he continued. I tried not to bristle at the subtle jibe. “I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin.” 

Everyone seemed in agreement on that point, at least. The Breach, insistent that it not be forgotten, rumbled more threats of destruction from its vantage. 

“And what will you do once this is all over?” I asked, curious what life would look like, if---No! One step at a time, remember? 

“One hopes that those in power will remember who helped, and who did not,” Solas replied. He, at least, sounded sure that there would be something after… After. “Seeker Pentaghast,” he said, addressing Cassandra. “You should know, the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.” 

_T: …_  
_V: … You okay?_  
_T: Mmm? Oh, sorry, I suppose I trailed off there. Where was I?_

At the time, I was grateful that Solas seemed to be defending my innocence, even while I resented him speaking about me as if I were not walking right there next to him. I was getting rather tired of people referring to me as some sort of anomaly or mystery that must be solved. Still, Cassandra at least seemed to accept this information with a nod. 

“Understood.” Then, to the rest of us she added, “We must get to the forward camp quickly.” 

“Well,” Varric said, walking past me. “Bianca’s excited!” 

Bianca? Who else do I need to meet now… I wondered with annoyance, before realizing he was apparently referring to his crossbow. With Cassandra already several paces ahead, Varric not far behind, and Solas starting off after a brief nod to me, there was nothing for it but to continue on. I inhaled deeply, hoping the bracing cold of the mountains would rejuvenate me, and continued off down the path to join our newly grown company.


	5. Best Laid Plans and Battlefields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their growing party continues, Trevelyan begins to realize the severity of her situation, and a choice is made.

With Cassandra leading the way, we continued on toward the forward camp, our progress intermittently halted by more shades and wraiths as we went. Both Solas and Varric were more than capable holding their own against attackers, but their styles and personalities were as different from each other as I was from Cassandra. It was a terribly strange sight to behold, all of us fighting side by side against a common enemy. 

_V: Why would that seem strange?_   
_T: Remember, I’d been locked in the Circle most of my life until that point. I’d only ever fought in heavily guarded training sessions, and then only with and against other mages._   
_V: Mmm, good point. I keep forgetting how sheltered you were back then._   
_T: Most people do. Or they politely refrain from reminding me._

Neither Cassandra nor Solas seemed particularly verbose, and I spent most of that time too exhausted to say much of anything, but Varric seemed to delight in conversation. From what I could tell, he was deliberately trying to get a rise out of Cassandra in particular. It was working with surprising ease. Admittedly, I hadn’t known her long, but Cassandra seemed the unflappable type. I hazarded a guess to Solas - making sure both were out of earshot first - that the two were old lovers, but that earned only a wry laugh and shake of his head in response. 

When he tired of provoking Cassandra, Varric turned his attention to me, peppering me with questions in between skirmishes. 

“So I take it you’re from the Free Marches?” 

“Oh?” I panted, struggling. The others had to pause frequently to allow me to catch up. I began to resent the looks of pity in their eyes, ashamed of my weakness and angry that my years confined indoors had left me at a significant disadvantage. Not their fault, I knew, but still immensely frustrating. It made me irritable and curt. 

“Accent,” Varric explained. “I’m from Kirkwall, but you’re from… further east, maybe?” 

“Is this another kind of interrogation?” I asked. It came out harsher than I’d intended, but Varric took it in stride. 

“Oh, I’m sure Cassandra has done plenty of that,” he snarked, directing his comment ahead of us, where Cassandra led the party forward. Her shoulders stiffened and her fists clenched at her sides. I couldn’t help but snicker a little, despite myself, but quickly covered it with a sigh of exhaustion when she glared over her shoulder in my direction. 

Wait… Kirkwall? I wondered briefly if that meant he had been witness to the uprising at the Circle there. The story of how the rebellion began had been passed back and forth so many times it had already reached legendary status to most mages. I wanted to ask about it, but I had enough air in my lungs for breathing or talking, not both. 

As we began ascending yet another hill - to my everlasting dismay - the mark on my hand flared up again. I had to pause to collect myself, but was privately proud that I managed not to cry out. Cassandra turned and waited quietly, her brows drawn close in a concerned scowl. Solas looked equally troubled, and equally unsurprised. Varric cursed and jumped back. 

“Shit, are you alright?” he asked. I could only shake my head sharply, knowing if I opened my mouth nothing would come out but a scream. It was spreading; I could feel it taking over my palm, climbing into my wrist, trying to worm its way up my arm. It felt like a sickness, like corruption. Part of my mind wondered horror-struck if this is what the taint felt like. 

“We must hurry, before the mark consumes her,” I heard Solas saying to Cassandra. 

“Hold on, we haven’t much further,” she called out to me, gesturing further up the hill. 

I nodded, and after a moment the pain subsided enough for me to continue. There was awkward silence as I took several unsteady steps in the direction of the hillcrest. Every step grew easier than the one before, however, and soon I gained a second wind, determined to get this thing out of me as soon as possible. I was grateful for the distraction when Varric decided to resume his line of questioning, unperturbed by my earlier bluntness or what had just transpired. 

“So… are you innocent?” 

“I don’t remember what happened.” 

Varric clicked his tongue in dismay. “That’ll get you every time. Should have spun a story.”

“That’s what you would have done,” Cassandra called back over her shoulder, still firmly in the lead. Maker, where did she get all that energy? She wasn’t even remotely out of breath!

Varric shrugged, unapologetic. “It’s more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution.” 

I began to assemble pieces to the puzzle of his story by then, at least. Clearly he’d also been imprisoned by Cassandra, though for what I wasn’t sure. Most likely it was something to do with the uprising in Kirkwall; that being his home couldn’t be a coincidence. And I had the feeling that I’d heard his name before… 

Shortly after that, though, we reached another hill and I was forced to transfer my concentration on steadying my breathing and counting my footsteps; I found that helped keep my mind from wandering to dark places when the conversation lulled, and distracted me from the growing ache in my lungs and limbs. Or the ever-present tingling in my left palm. 

I must have been concentrating more than I realized, for I didn’t notice the distant shouting or the unholy roar of another rift until we were nearly upon it. Several soldiers were battling beneath it, crying out for help, eyes wide in terror behind their helmets. 

“We must seal it, quickly!” I heard Solas shout from beside me. Blinking myself back to the moment, I somehow managed to summon the will for a chain of lightning to hit on the small cluster of demons, drawing their attention away from the soldiers as Cassandra moved in with a downward slash across the torso of the nearest shade, while Varric launched bolt after bolt into the creatures from the opposite side he’d somehow managed to sneak to without anyone noticing. 

I fell into a battle rhythm that was quickly growing familiar, and before I knew it all were dispatched. I was just breathing a sigh of relief when I realized the rift was still there, and I could see movement from the other side. More were coming through. 

“Hurry! Use the mark!” Solas shouted, and I cursed my slow wit. Of course, I had no idea how to use the mark, exactly. I recalled our first meeting; he had grabbed my hand and thrust it upward, aiming it at the rift. I mimicked that motion, and almost immediately the awful feeling of a flame that burns but does not consume became all I knew for a brief moment, before it faded just as suddenly and I was left standing there, the same as I was before. Except there was a difference now. The pain that had lingered in my palm had receded this time, and I felt… filled. 

Looking down at my hand, I was dismayed to see the mark still there. At least the pain was gone for now. Solas approached me and laid a hand on my shoulder, though whether it was in gratitude or concern, I couldn’t tell. Cassandra was calling to the soldiers to open the gate, and then his hand was gone. 

“We are clear for the moment,” Solas said before moving on. “Well done.”

“Whatever that thing is, it’s useful,” Varric said as he passed me. 

The scene on the other side of the gate was ghastly, much like the first one I had crossed just outside the village where we’d started. Though, where that one had looked like the aftermath of a great battle, with soldiers being tended to physically and spiritually, this bridge was clearly still in the midst of the chaos wrought by the Breach. Not quite the front lines, but very close to them. People ran back and forth in urgency, and I dodged this way and that to stay out of their paths. The Breach was louder here, too; more insistent. It raged overhead while soldiers and priests and medics ran to and fro in vain beneath it. 

Once, when I was still an apprentice back at the Circle, one of the younger students had been practicing a fire spell in the library when it got out of his control. Too afraid to say anything, he had merely fled the room, hoping to avoid trouble. Before anyone knew it, the flames had taken over an entire wing, devouring the dry paper and wood as would a starving child at a buffet. It quickly grew beyond any of our apprentice abilities to quell by magic, so we resorted to batting at it desperately with damp cloths. Eventually, several senior enchanters arrived and were able to get it under control, but not before it had gorged itself on dozens of tomes of great value, costing an untold amount of damage to the furniture and scorching the very stone. 

These people running around the bridge had the same look in their eyes as they hurried about - as if they were battling a raging inferno armed with nothing but damp cloth. It was a look of desperation, of knowing the battle was already lost, but too afraid to give up and face the flames. 

If Cassandra was right, and that I somehow caused all this… I shuddered, remembering that poor, frightened little boy. I had seen him flee the room but hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Others had seen him too, for it hadn’t taken long before he was identified as the source of the disaster. Hugging myself to stop the trembling, I remembered the tears that had streaked twin paths down his plump cheeks, his mouth open in a screaming plea as he was dragged off, his feet kicking in vain at the ground, held by his arms by two silent Templars, impassive behind their featureless helmets. They were taking him to the room on the top floor, the one reserved but for a single purpose. 

I tried not to think of what these terrified people would do to me if they found me guilty. 

Ahead of me Cassandra was heading toward someone -- no, two people -- leaning over a desk erected hastily to the side, toward the far end of the bridge. Varric and Solas were off to the other side, staying out of the way and watching the two with interest. As I approached, it was apparent that they were having a heated argument. The one facing me, a man, dressed as a Chantry official of some rank or other, was trying to shout down the woman opposite him. 

The woman - whom I now recognized as Leliana, the second woman from the cell where I first regained consciousness - was giving as good as she got. “The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes!” she insisted. “It is our only chance!” They were arguing about me? I cautiously crept closer. 

“You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility… ” The official continued wildly gesticulating, while Leliana continued attempting to talk over him. I was almost beginning to enjoy the show, when unfortunately the official noticed my presence. His displeasure was apparent.

Leliana turned and spotted us. “You made it,” she said flatly. For an instant, her face relaxed with what might have been relief, but it was gone so quickly I couldn’t be sure. In its place her expression became a neutral mask, impossible to discern. She turned back to the loud one behind her. “Chancellor Roderick, this is---”

“I know who she is,” he growled in her direction, though now his eyes were locked on me. He glared with a hatred that reminded me uncomfortably of the villagers back at the Chantry. It took effort not to fidget under that glare. After sufficiently sizing me up, he turned his attention to Cassandra, who had taken up a position next to Leliana at the desk. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!” 

Wait, execution? My eyes widened, and suddenly the crying child was forefront in my mind again as I waited for Cassandra’s response, not daring to turn and meet her gaze. 

“Order me?” Cassandra merely scoffed, unimpressed with the authoritative tone in his voice. “You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat!” 

“And you are a thug!” the chancellor argued. “But a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!” 

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.” Leliana stepped in. 

“Justinia is dead!” Roderick dismissed her comment and I heard Cassandra’s gasp at his cold impertinence. “We must elect her replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!”

The three of them converged on each other, debating amongst themselves as to my ultimate fate, as if I was not a living, breathing person standing right there before them. Rage and indignation began to rise within me. I had spent my entire life being discussed and debated over, listened to others weigh in on the risks and benefits of allowing my continued existence. In all that time, I had been forced to push down my anger and fear, knowing the consequences of allowing it to take over would only serve as an excuse to them that I was too great a risk. The hubris, the hypocrisy of it all was infuriating, and for the first time in my life, I had the leverage needed to ensure that I was no longer ignored. I was done pushing down my feelings. 

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” I demanded, my voice carrying above the argument, giving the others pause. All three turned to look at me, and at least Cassandra had the grace to look embarrassed. Leliana’s face remained inscrutable. Chancellor Roderick was only more infuriated at the gall that I should dare to speak up for myself. 

“You shouldn’t even be here!” he spat at me, his face turning red. He looked as though he was ready to vault the table and throttle me, and I was more than ready for him to try it, but Cassandra stepped between us, and whatever was writ on her face made Roderick calm himself enough to resume their argument in a more even tone. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.” 

Just like that, I was an afterthought again. All my rage was worth no more than a momentary annoyance to them. I could hardly believe it. I was there, and it was my life being drained from me while they stood there debating troop movements. I could feel the tingling creeping back into me, each beat of the pulse in my palm growing more insistent, and fear swept in to replace the anger. I could feel my chest expand and contract as I gasped for breath, feeling like everything was collapsing around me. My heartbeat filled my ears. I heard only disparate words here and there, and I struggled to make sense of them. 

“... to the temple, it’s the quickest… “ 

“... charge as a distraction… through the mountains… “ 

“... too risky… “

“Listen to me… “ 

Suddenly, everything stopped. The world flashed green, and I clenched my teeth on another cry as I felt that same pain, pulling me up, trying to draw me into the sky and swallow me. What would happen if I went through that Breach, I wondered? Would my very soul disappear as if I never was? Would anyone remember me, remember that I hadn’t wanted this, that I tried to fix it? 

Then the pain was gone. I was still standing there on the bridge, surrounded by people all looking at me in a multitude of expressions. Solas and Varric looked worried, many others were terrified, Leliana was intrigued, Roderick was making warding symbols with his hands and backing away, and Cassandra… 

Cassandra stood before me, meeting my gaze unflinching. Her eyes were clear with purpose, her jaw set. She did not pity me, nor did she fear me. 

“How do you think we should proceed?” she asked. The question was so ludicrous I almost laughed. 

“Now you’re asking me what I think?”

“You have the mark,” Solas pointedly reminded everyone, though his comment was to me. 

“And you are the one we must keep alive,” Cassandra added. “Since we cannot agree on our own…” 

For the first time, I was given authority over my own fate. I was allowed to make a choice. As absurd as it may sound, I was profoundly grateful to her for that. I was sure at that point that whatever this mark was, it was killing me. She had given me the opportunity to choose how I go. I will always be grateful to Cassandra for that moment. 

I tried to recall what they had been debating while I was blindly panicking. Something about a mountain pass; Leliana insisted that was the safer path. But no, Cassandra had said they’d lost a scout troop there, hadn’t she? The other choice, what was it? Direct charge. Swiftest path between any two points was a straight line. I clenched my left fist, feeling the lingering sensation of the otherworldly poison trying to climb its way up my arm. My decision was made. 

“I say we charge,” I said with a nod. “I won’t survive long enough for your trial…” I hesitated, knowing in my soul that I spoke the truth, but not wanting to admit it out loud. Still, nothing for it, so I continued. “Whatever happens, happens now.” 

Cassandra nodded, accepting the choice instantly. She turned to Leliana and gave a few short commands, then Leliana turned to carry them out. Roderick had a parting rebuke, but I was no longer paying attention. A choice had been made, and we had the path laid out before us. This time, I took the lead. From here, it was easy to determine our route, setting my compass by the great ashen cloud ahead.


	6. Star Crossed Lovers

_T: No, you are not calling it that._  
_V: Aw, come on, everyone loves the romance angle!_  
_T: Absolutely not._  
_V: Fine… You’re about as much fun as Curly about this you know._  
_T: I’ll take that as a compliment._  
_V: You would._


	7. Enter the Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theresa Trevelyan and Commander Cullen Rutherford cross paths for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a quick shout out to the Fateswain Saga Wiki. I will be occasionally borrowing from their established universe that builds off and fills in some blanks of the canonical Dragon Age lore. When that happens, I will try to provide links or give specific credit where due. Specifically in this chapter, the name of the Ostwick Circle comes from their entry on the city, found here: http://dragon-age-the-fateswain-saga.wikia.com/wiki/Ostwick.

Looking back now, I don’t think I acknowledged at the time how readily Solas and Varric agreed to join us for the push to the site where the Temple of Sacred Ashes once stood. I didn’t know their reasons for staying with me at the time, nor did I realize the risk they were taking upon themselves in different ways. All I knew was we were walking toward possibly the greatest disaster in living memory after the Fifth Blight, and without a word being said, both men stood by my side. None of us knew what we would be facing, but at least I knew who I would be facing it with. That was not something I was used to; relying on others. Another novelty I would not come to fully appreciate until much later. 

The giant smoking crater where the Temple used to stand was before and below us, spread out across the valley in ruins. Together with the soldiers under Cassandra’s command, we started forward, our faces and shoulders set with the grim purpose given to us. I tried to focus only on placing one foot in front of the other and not wonder about what horrors might await us when we reached the spot directly below that Breach. 

This close to the center, I began to spot mages and Templars among the injured. Mages are easy enough to recognize if one is paying attention, though the exact reason is hard to describe to anyone not attuned to the Fade. Suffice to say, the air is more energized around mages, filled with potential, as if the invisible currents of magical aura are waiting expectantly to be turned to corporeal purpose. 

Templars are also easily recognized, but for different reasons. Their armor makes them easy enough for anyone to spot, but a mage would know them regardless from the way they felt. It’s nearly the exact opposite feel a mage gives off; the air around a Templar feels more… firm, more solid, for lack of a better word. I once heard a colleague describe the sensation as a kind of obstinacy, a refusal of the very will of the world around you to bend or respond to your summons. I hadn’t noticed the difference until I was forced to flee Faxhold and Ostwick with the rest of my Circle - the ones who survived the purge, anyway - and found myself free of the presence of Templars for the first time since I was a child. 

It’s a misconception, though, that Templars always negate magic without having to try. In actual fact, they must deliberately invoke their abilities in order to cancel our own. In a Circle, most Templars are trained to constantly nullify magic anywhere that isn’t an approved training area. However, this is hardly practical outside a Circle, and so Templars are harder to identify when on the run. Those few of us left had to learn to attune ourselves to that particular sensation, that flatness of the air, that stubbornness of will. Once it had been discerned, we knew to flee as far and as fast as we could. 

After spending the last year or so on the run, I’d gotten quite astute at sensing them at a distance. It took a great deal of willpower not to run in the opposite direction the instant I noticed their presence. I expected one of them to challenge me, or to feel the uncomfortable scrutiny I had grown up with, but none of them paid me any mind, keeping their attentions on their own injuries or other fallen brethren. After spending my life under the suspicious gaze of Templars, to be ignored by them entirely was an odd experience. 

Continuing forward, we began to see more of the soldiers combatting the army of demons that seemed to cluster more densely as we grew closer to the epicenter. The sounds of battle were all around us now, but the fighting was carefully kept at a distance by smaller squads posted further ahead. It was their job to clear a path so we - so I - could get to the Breach. We saw the cost of that whenever we came upon the aftermath of one of their encounters with the terrors of the Fade. I heard Cassandra recite prayers for their souls to find peace with the Maker whenever we passed another series of bodies. I could only make apologies and promise that their sacrifice would not be wasted. I tried not to think about whether their lives would have been spared if I had chosen the path through the mountains instead; the choice was made, and there was no turning back.

It wasn’t long before we came upon another rift. We were well past the bridge at that point, and nearly to the Temple itself. Solas called out the warning first, but I was beginning to sense them on my own. A familiar crackle in the air always preceded them. It was daunting to think of coming so close to the Fade here in the waking world, and I noted how no one was willing to state it out loud, though everyone must have understood the rifts for what they were as well as I. Perhaps some things are easier to accept with a bit of plausible deniability. 

The few remaining soldiers were already locked in combat with the demons and appeared to be having a more difficult time of it. Cassandra tore through three Shades that had one poor fighter surrounded, and I hit a pair of Wraiths that had been attempting to flank another with a bolt of lightning, causing a chain effect. Magic came much easier closer to the rifts, for which I was grateful, as my own stamina was waning fast. Before long, the enemies were dispatched, and it was on me to close the tear they came through. Reluctantly, I thrust my hand toward it and endured the fire that does not burn, and was disturbed to find that I was actually growing used to the sensation. 

“Sealed, as before,” Solas said, coming to stand next to me. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.” I sensed a hint of approval in his tone, and wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or unsettled that he was right. 

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Varric added. I nodded my wholehearted agreement. 

One of the soldiers that had just been giving orders to the others approached and addressed Cassandra, greeting her with familiarity. Others on the field deferred to him as well, I noticed; likely he had some rank over them. He must have asked her about the rift, for after a moment she stepped back and gestured to me to step forward. 

“Do not congratulate me, Commander,” she said as I came closer. “This is the prisoner’s doing.” 

“Is it?” The soldier - commander, I noted - transferred his gaze to me, and I felt cold scrutiny behind his amber eyes as he addressed me. “I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.” I felt another pang of guilt, wondering once more if I should have taken the other path. Hoping that I wasn’t the cause of all this chaos and pain and terror. Fearing that I was. 

For the moment, all I could do was helplessly shrug in response. “You’re not the only one hoping that.” 

“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we?” he said. He paused for a moment, as if there was more he wanted to say. Instead, he turned to Cassandra, and gestured further afield. “The way to the Temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.” 

Cassandra nodded. “Then we must move quickly. Give us time, Commander.” I flinched, knowing this request would undoubtedly mean more casualties, more lives sacrificed so I could have my one desperate attempt at fixing this disaster, and we didn’t even know for sure whether it would work. 

I found myself under the stern gaze of the Commander again. Surely he knew the cost better than I. How long had he been out here trying in vain to contain all this damage? He tried to keep his expression neutral, but the bags under his eyes and the slouch in his shoulders betrayed his exhaustion. Maker, I was exhausted and I’d only been at this for, what? A few hours? He had the look of a man who hadn’t seen a bed in days. I wondered not for the first time how long all this had been going on before I had woken up chained to the floor of that dungeon. 

As he turned to leave, he addressed me once more. “Maker watch over you… for all our sakes.” Strangely, it sounded as if he actually meant it. 

I watched him jog off to join the rest of his company, taking the arm of an injured soldier struggling to keep up with the others. After a brief pause, I turned back to face the direction of the Temple. Belatedly, I realized I hadn’t even gotten his name. 

_C: Pardon the interruption, I just need to--_   
_V: --Oh, good. Curly! Give me a sec, will you?_   
_C: Oooh no. I was told to stay clear of this room while you two worked. I just needed a candle from the desk there…_   
_V: I just wanted to get your first impressions of the Lady Herald._   
_C: Hah! I’m not fool enough to answer that. I’ve read your books._   
_V: I have no clue what you could possibly be inferring._   
_T: What’s wrong, afraid you’ll offend me?_   
_C: That’s not what I--_   
_V: --Come on, it’s for posterity. No exaggerated prose, I promise._   
_C: I have no interest in helping you turn a retelling of Tess’s accomplishments into some silly star-crossed lovers romance._   
_V: It can be both!_   
_T: I told you he would hate that title._   
_C: The answer is no._   
_V: Alright, alright. But there’s nothing wrong with a little romantic subplot. People eat that shit up._   
_C: Clearly…_   
_T: Your Book of the Champion was one of your most popular works, and it was a biography._   
_V: A heavily exaggerated biography. And if you’ll recall, there was a fair bit of romance in that too._   
_T: Fair point._   
_V: At least give me your first thoughts of each other. It is relevant to this chapter, right?_   
_C: Andraste preserve me… Fine, but to be honest there’s not much to tell._   
_V: You expect me to believe she didn’t leave an impression on you?_   
_C: Quite the opposite, just not what you’re expecting._   
_V: Oh?_   
_C: All I can really remember of that moment was how afraid she looked. I’d heard the rumor that they’d caught the person who destroyed the Temple, but when I saw her, I refused to believe she was the one responsible. She looked… terrified._   
_T: I was._   
_V: Perfectly rational reaction to the situation at hand, if you ask me. Theresa, your turn now._   
_T: Well, I’ve already told you. He just looked so exhausted. And very much like he didn’t want to be there._   
_C: Heh, well I’ll admit I did tend to have a permanent scowl on my face in those days._   
_V: And for a long while after._   
_C and T: …_   
_V: Sorry, did I kill the mood?_   
_C: Maker’s breath…_   
_T: I did warn you to stay away._   
_V: Wait, don’t leave yet! I have follow-ups!_


	8. That's Big. That's Very Big.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, Theresa Trevelyan and the rest of her newfound companions reach the epicenter of the Conclave explosion, and make a desperate attempt at closing the Breach. But will it cost everything Trevelyan has? What terrible truths await her in the crater where it all began?

Nothing could have prepared me for the Temple of Sacred Ashes. My worst nightmares had never been that cruelly vivid. The ground still blew out smoke that smelled acrid and electric. It reminded me of the scent that came from the rifts, only now undercut by char and cooked meat. I wasn’t sure at first where the scent of meat came from, but then I saw the first of many burned corpses scattered across the valley and the realization hit me with an awful clarity as I fought back a wave of nausea. 

I still dream of those poor souls, the grim statues left in tribute to the grave that was once a holy place, their faces contorted in fear and pain. Many were kneeling or throwing their arms up in futile attempts to fend off the coming doom, forever frozen in their last moments. It must have been agonizing. Flames still danced at their feet, melting them into the ground and turning them into horrifying permanent fixtures. Not all were intact; here and there we would find limbs, a skull, a torso. 

It was hot here, and everywhere around us the land was blackened and laid bare. The force of the explosion had torn through everything in a wide radius surrounding the Temple. Wherever I looked, I saw the aftermath of death and destruction. And above it all, the open maw of the Breach growled hungrily. From here, it seemed to block out the whole sky, casting perpetual night over the landscape below. 

I survived this? I couldn’t fathom it, gazing out over the ravaged landscape. 

“That is where our soldiers found you.” I started; I hadn’t noticed Cassandra come to stand next to me. She nodded to a spot several yards ahead, not meeting my gaze. I looked to where she indicated, but could see no difference, nothing to distinguish that specific area from anywhere else. “They said you stepped out of the Fade. They said a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.” 

I frowned, trying to remember. There was a steep hill, and at the top… I could almost see her, the outline, a silhouette of light. Barely an outline, but clearly a woman, with one arm outstretched. Warning? Or beckoning? 

A hand on my shoulder forced me back into the present once more, and I looked beside me where Cassandra still stood. Ahead of us, Solas and Varric had stopped to look back, likely wondering what was keeping us. I glanced back to the spot where I was found, hoping to recapture some glimmer of that image again, to glean anything from that emptiness where memory should be, but there was nothing. 

Nothing but a crater. 

My past had nothing for me, and the present held only questions. As for my future… I flexed my hand, the left one, feeling the poison within it, still spreading with a will that was terrible and unceasing. I looked ahead to the pair of strangers inexplicably loyal despite the inherent danger we were all about to walk into. I looked to my side to lock eyes with Cassandra; my captor and my defender. They were waiting for me to continue forward. However short my future may be, at least it was mine to shape. That was something I’d never had before. 

Clenching my fist, I inhaled deeply of the pungent air, and stepped forward to do what I could to fix this mess, and hopefully, save my own skin in the process. 

We came out the other side of the archway together. Almost immediately, a flash of sickly green blinded us for a moment before drawing our gaze out and up… up… up.

Up. 

It was the biggest rift we’d seen yet, and it hovered high in the air, well below the Breach but still far above our heads. I could see the trail of energy connecting the two, almost like a leash. It was hard to tell if the rift was being fed or was drawing power on its own, but I could see the flow so clearly it almost seemed solid, tangible. I was reminded uncomfortably of the feeling of being filled after closing a rift. It gave the illusion that the Breach was much closer than it was; or perhaps it made the rift seem so high up as to be unreachable. 

“That is a long way up,” Varric voiced my own sentiment rather succinctly. Solas and Cassandra were silent, his gaze solemn and her mouth agape. 

I hadn’t realized how intently I was staring at the massive gaping wound in the air above us until I was startled by armored boots coming to a halt behind us, and Cassandra called out to someone she knew. I turned to see Leliana, having arrived just after us. I spared a nod for her before turning back to contemplate how exactly I was going to even reach the blighted thing in front of me. 

She and Cassandra shared words or orders, I wasn’t sure which. I was busy wondering whether the mark in my hand would be enough to close a rift of this size, and what effect it could possibly have on the Breach itself. Would it take all I had? What if I made things worse? After a moment, Cassandra stepped into my field of vision, all the same questions write on her face. Neither of us gave voice to them. There would have been little point in stating the obvious. 

Instead, Cassandra said plainly, “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

My chance. I would only get one. And it was too late to turn back now. I nodded. 

“I’m assuming you have a plan to get me up there?” 

“No,” Solas shook his head. “This rift was the first, and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.” 

He sounded so certain. At least that made one of us. Well, and it was as good a plan as any other. Cassandra nodded. 

“Then let’s find a way down. And be careful.” 

Down seemed counterintuitive, but she was right. There was no way to get any higher, and it was impossible to reach the rift from the landing we’d come out on. Throughout the day - Maker, had it only been a day? - I had noticed there was a certain radius wherein the mark in my hand was able to interact with the rifts. I’d been able to intuit the size of each radius as we went along, dependant on each respective rift, and I could tell from where we were standing that we were too far from this one for me to be of any use. 

So, down it was. With all the damage, it was difficult to tell whether the architecture pointing us down toward a singular focal point was intended or an accident of the explosion. Either way, it was obviously the origin point of the explosion. We tentatively worked our way around the broken stonework, attempting to find a path. 

We didn’t get far before a booming voice echoed through the courtyard, so loud it pounded through my head, making it impossible to determine its origin. It took a moment for me to even comprehend that they were words being spoken, and I had to concentrate to process them. 

“NOW IS THE HOUR OF OUR VICTORY. BRING FORTH THE SACRIFICE.”

I frantically scanned the area, but everyone else looked just as confused and alarmed as I. Soldiers were stationed at various points across the circumference of the balcony, and some were below already. All were looking in different directions, trying to find the source. 

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra wondered, the fear and bewilderment clear in her voice and plain on her face. 

“At a guess? The person who created the Breach.” Solas kept his gaze on the ground, face unreadable. His voice was markedly even, and I marveled at how calm he appeared. I noticed he was pointedly not looking at me, while others were now waiting on my word. Well, and if that voice belonged to the one who did all this, I was most eager to meet the bastard. 

We continued picking our way carefully downward, when I heard Varric exclaim from behind me. 

“You know that’s red lyrium, Seeker,” he said, for the first time sounding genuinely unsettled. I looked around to see what he meant, and saw several red crystals jutting out of the walls and floor ahead of us. Their fierce, bright color was at such contrast to the darkly foreboding burnt ruins and sickly muted green of the rift and the Breach that it hurt my eyes to look. I’d heard of red lyrium only through the rumors coming out of Kirkwall, but the descriptions hardly did it justice. 

“I see it, Varric,” Cassandra responded. 

“But what’s it doing here?” Varric was clearly agitated by its presence. 

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple, corrupted it,” Solas guessed. 

“It’s evil,” Varric insisted. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it!” He and Cassandra both gave the stuff a wide berth, and Solas and I followed suit as we continued toward the path leading down into the courtyard. 

“KEEP THE SACRIFICE STILL.” The voice again reverberated from everywhere and nowhere. 

“SOMEONE HELP ME!” A second voice, belonging to a woman and sounding greatly imperiled, joined the first. It hit me like a thunderclap; I knew that voice! It stirred something in my memory, but even as I tried to reach that part of my mind that could put a face to the voice, it slipped back behind the fog and out of reach. I was left grasping desperately, more frustrated than before, as all around me turned their heads this way and that, trying to find the voice’s origin in the corporeal world. 

Except Cassandra, who gasped with sudden recognition. 

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice!”

How is that possible? I had assumed, given the grief-stricken tone and expression Cassandra exhibited whenever the Grand Divine was brought up, that there had been no doubt of her passing, that there had been a body or evidence of some kind. So, how were we hearing her voice now? 

Looking up at the gigantic rift above, it suddenly made sense. If rifts were tears in the Veil, and by extension direct links to the Fade, it was possible the Fade was tapping into the memory of this place, making it interact with the waking world, causing the past to bleed through into the present. 

I shook my head. It almost beggared belief, but the proof was right before our eyes. If the Veil was truly becoming that unstable… I shuddered at the possibilities that implied. 

Finally, we reached a low enough outcropping of rocks that enabled us to jump down to the bottom of the crater, and we approached the base of that great and terrifying rift. I felt the air itself pulsate around me like a heartbeat. The ruins were all saturated with whatever energy was frothing forth from the Breach. Bright veins glowed and faded in waves through the fragmented walls that remained. It felt like walking into the core of some great beast. 

Even the rift was different here. Instead of a simple tear, there was an ever-shifting mass of sharp-edged, jutting shapes that looked like crystals. It was impossible to tell if they were tangible or just clearer manifestations than the ones we’d faced previously, but they felt more solid.

I tried to puzzle out what that could mean, but I must have gotten too close, as I suddenly felt the air shift and my surroundings changed drastically. 

I found myself standing in a room, surrounded by thick stone walls, whole and untouched by the explosion. It was dim, the torches hung at the four corners doing little to stave off the darkness. A woman hung suspended in the air before me, looking at me with terrified eyes.

“SOMEONE HELP ME!” The same echo of a memory resounded. It came from that woman. 

A bright flash forced me to shut my eyes lest I become blinded, and when I opened them again I was back in the ruins of the crater, surrounded by bewildered soldiers. But the echoes weren’t finished. 

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?” 

“That was your voice!” Cassandra declared from behind me, and if I did not know fear before, I knew it then. I had never heard my own voice through another’s ears before, and so had scarcely recognized it. Once Cassandra said it, however, I knew there could be no mistake; that was me. I had spoken to the Grand Divine before, yet I had no recollection of it. I felt the panic beginning to rise again. Why could I not remember? Just what had happened to me and how was it connected to all this chaos? Cassandra, too, was still trying to comprehend. “Most Holy called out to you, but… “

Then the rift took me by the hand. 

I know no other way to describe what happened. My hand jerked upward of its own accord, and I felt as if I were being led, even though I was standing still. I was helpless, at the mercy of a will I could not hope to understand or combat. There was another flash of white light, and I was once again in the dark room, with the terrified woman hanging in the air before me. 

This time, I recognized her as Grand Divine Justinia. A portrait of her had hung in Faxhold’s great hall for as long as I could remember, though here she appeared far older than the smooth features of the oil canvas. Behind her were several sets of eyes, red with menace and disembodied in the darkness left unpenetrated by the torchlight. A second figure, vague enough as to be indistinguishable, stood between us. It gazed impassionately down at the woman, even as she looked to me for aid, though I knew I could offer none. 

Above them all, I sensed rather than saw another pair of eyes watching all this unfold. They were immense, yet inconspicuous somehow. Their colour eluded me; indeed even now I am unable to discern what they truly looked like. I knew only that they watched, and waited. It unnerved me more than anything else I saw that terrible day, though I did not understand why then. 

“What’s going on here?” It was my own voice speaking now, from my own mouth, but I had not consciously spoken the words. Both figures turned to look at me, as I knew they would. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but likely it had to do with the unsettling sense that I had seen all this unfold before, and knew how it would end. 

“Run while you can! Warn them!” the image of Divine Justinia pleaded to me. I remained frozen in place. 

“We have an intruder,” the faceless silhouette said to those menacing red eyes. “Kill her, now.”

With another flash of white light, the echoes disappeared, and I was returned to the ruined courtyard as before. I was trying to make sense of what I’d just seen when I was jerked roughly from behind. Cassandra’s fierce, accusatory eyes were inches from mine. 

“You were there!” she declared. Grabbing me by the shoulders, she shook me with every question as she demanded answers. “Who attacked? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I don’t remember!” I broke her grasp on me and stepped backward. I was reeling, not just from her grip, but from all I had seen. I could no longer deny that I had anything to do with all this, but nor could I remember what part I had played. What if I was responsible? 

No! I couldn’t bare to think of it. I would never… 

Solas stepped between us, directed our gaze upward to the rift. 

“Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place.” His words brought me little comfort, merely confirming what I already knew, but they seemed to placate Cassandra for the moment. She clearly wanted to continue her barrage of questions, but held her tongue and settled her gaze on Solas, content for now to allow him to provide answers when she could not find any from me. “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily,” he explained. “I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely.” I waited for the catch. “However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.” There it was. 

Cassandra caught on to his meaning swiftly. 

“That means demons. Stand ready!” Her last statement was a command, shouted for the benefit of all who still stood guard over the courtyard. There was a brief flurry of activity as soldiers ran to and fro, taking better positions and knocking bows, drawing swords, preparing themselves. It all had the feel of a great inhale, then a pause of held breath while they waited. Only belatedly did I realize they were waiting on me. 

Cassandra nodded to me, and I turned to face the rift. I noticed almost absently that I was holding my own breath as I lifted my left hand and pointed it toward the rift, not knowing whether the mark would be able to open as well as close. Solas seemed certain, and so I tried to take hold of that, to allow his confidence to bolster me. It took only a moment before I felt it; my nerves all alight, an inferno that encompassed only me. 

Except this time it was different. 

I should have known, beforehand; if closing a rift left me feeling overfilled with energy, opening one would logically have done the opposite. Too late, I tried to stop the flow of energy being pulled from me, already feeling the weakness waiting behind it. I hadn’t noticed until that moment how much I was being sustained by the energies I had been drawing from the rifts I had closed throughout the day. As it drained out of me, I felt my legs shake and my body collapse with the fatigue that was left. 

I fell to the ground, no longer able to stand under my own strength. Above us, the rift was now open, and to my horror, movement was already stirring on the other side. 

A great, armored, towering creature materialized from the rift and fell to the ground, shaking the fragile foundations. It announced its arrival with a great roar, and I let out the breath I’d been holding in a string of curses lost to its cacophony. A pride demon stood before us, almost tall enough to reach the balcony where the archers stood waiting, its frame massive and pierced with spikes. Its multitude of eyes quickly found me, regarding me with targeted malice. 

I was powerless, frozen to the ground, weak as a newborn babe. 

“Now!” 

Cassandra’s order yielded a wave of arrows hurtling through the air, but they seemed to have little effect on the demon. It began marching toward me, and I cursed again. Desperately, I crawled backward, trying in vain to find the strength to stand and run, or even to summon a spell. But I had nothing left. The rift had taken everything. 

Suddenly, Solas stood before me, and I felt the steadying calm of his magical aura as he summoned a barrier to lay over us both. With a sweeping motion, he called forth a burst of freezing cold wind that halted the demon in its tracks. 

From there, it was chaos. I remember little of what came next, but I know there was a cacophony of shouting and steel against flesh and arrows flying and the electric crackle of the Pride demon’s enormous whip as it flew through the air. I remember the searing pain I felt when it flicked out toward me and wrapped around my torso. I think I was flung through the air then, as the next thing I knew was the hard ground against my face and a lingering ache in my knees, hands, and side. At some point, more demons must have come through; I found myself apart from any allies and surrounded by shades and wisps. I managed to find the strength to stand, then, having no choice but to run for my life. Every muscle screamed at me in protest as I dodged attacks and it was impossible to summon spells. Bereft of my magic, I was reduced to using my staff as a bludgeoning weapon to defend myself. 

In desperation, I tried reaching out my left hand and willing the rift to close, hoping I would be able to draw on the energy it had taken from me. To my dismay, the burning sensation lasted only a moment before subsiding, and before I opened my eyes I knew it had failed. The rift was still above us, hovering in defiance of every sense of logic and sanity I had learned to trust in my life. 

But something else had changed too. The Pride was kneeling as if in pain, and the few arrows still flying toward it actually seemed to be sticking. 

“What did you do?!” A hand grabbed me by the arm and I was turned forcefully around to meet Leliana’s surprised expression. 

Cassandra was faster to grasp what had happened. “The demon is vulnerable! Now!” At that, the others laid into the Pride with renewed vigour. Leliana quickly released my arm and resumed putting arrow after arrow to notch on her bow, releasing each with precision and a fluid motion that only came with extensive practice. 

Other demons around me were advancing, and I wearily fended them off with what little energy I had left, temporarily boosted by my disrupting of the rift. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. I soon found myself struggling to stay upright and seeking cover to catch my breath. I felt the second skin of Solas’s barrier once again, but didn’t see him in the chaos of the battle. My body protested every movement, and everything within me cried out desperately for rest. It was all I could do to remain conscious and dodge the Pride’s stinging electric whip. 

After what felt like an age, the demon finally fell to the swords and arrows of Leliana’s and Cassandra’s forces. I breathed a deep sigh of relief, but it was short-lived as I saw all eyes turning to me expectantly once more. In my adrenaline-addled and exhausted state, I couldn’t fathom why until Cassandra shouted to me. 

“Now! Close the rift!” 

The rift… right. 

I lifted my hand out of habit, bracing for the impact of the Fade to engulf me again. Only this time it was worse. Far worse. I was being burned alive from the inside. I tried to break the connection, but my hand was held in place, no longer under my own power. I pulled harder, trying desperately to break away, but it was no use. The energy poured into me, but it was too much, too big, too volatile. I was coming undone, and there was nothing I could do about it. All my strength was sapped, I had no magic left in me, had barely the fortitude to remain standing. I had nothing left with which to fight. 

Visions swam before me, disembodied and familiar. 

A pair of cold, grey eyes regarding me with cool dispassion, a twinge of curiosity giving them pause. 

The Divine, eyes pleading and desperate. 

Myself, standing alone in the darkness, a dagger held in one shaking hand. 

The face of a woman I didn’t recognize, serene and unconcerned in sleep, dark hair laying in waves around her oval face, spread out around her on a soft pillow. I raised the dagger--- 

No!

The word came to mind on its own. I was still burning, but some part of me wasn’t ready to give in yet. I latched onto that word, pulling every ounce of will and strength left in me, and instinctively I pushed back into the rift with everything I had. I felt a resounding rush of energy going upward, back into the Breach far above. 

Then everything went dark, and I knew nothing more.


	9. Lived to See Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theresa wakes back at Haven, unsure of what has transpired. She still has many questions, and hopes to finally get answers.

_V: So, now we get into the birth of the legend._  
_T: No, now I explain why I’m not a legend. Don’t forget why I agreed to do this._  
_V: All I’m saying is folks love a good story._  
_T: Clearly. But a good story shouldn’t preclude the truth._  
_V: Who said it did? If anything, the truth helps a good story. Shit, some of the craziest parts of my stories are based on real events._  
_T: Like your Tale of the Champion?_  
_V: Hey, now, let’s not go there. We both know I wasn’t going for honesty with that one._  
_T: Yes, but the rest of Thedas doesn’t know that. That’s the problem._

Consciousness slowly returned. Shadows lingered in my thoughts as I slowly regained my bearings: portals into the Fade, a brilliant silhouette reaching out to me, a room of darkness and menacing eyes. The cold grip of a dagger suspended above a sleeping face. Impassive eyes watching it all unfold from afar. 

I awoke further, and sensations began to register. I was lying on a soft bed, covered in thick blankets. People were talking somewhere out of sight, too faint to comprehend. The bed was warm, but my face was cold. I shifted to pull the covers overhead. At once, a wave of pain swept through me, culminating in a splitting headache. As I reached up to clutch at my temples, a glint of green light flashed from my left palm. I paused, remembering. 

So. Not a dream then. 

A gasp and a thud from elsewhere in the room caught my attention, and I looked up to see a slight elven girl who looked scarcely past her teens quivering before me. 

“I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” she exclaimed, breathless. 

I frowned, confused. “Is this another prison?”

“I… no? At least, I don’t think so.” She couldn’t have possibly sounded less certain. I looked around, noting wooden slat walls and a solitary window opposite from where I was lying. It was daylight outside. 

“Then where am I?” The throbbing in my head had not subsided. Slowly, I sat upright, rubbing at my temples in a futile gesture. She waffled, wringing her hands, as if unsure whether to answer. “Tell me!” I demanded, exasperated. 

The poor girl jumped, and I regretted my harsh tone instantly. My gaze softened, though I wasn’t sure why she looked so terrified of me. I was about to apologize when a familiar face came up beside her and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It took me a moment to place a name with the face, but once I remembered, I breathed a sigh of relief, glad to see Solas had survived the battle. 

“It’s alright,” he was saying to the girl. “She is not like the others.” The girl seemed to take comfort from that, but still looked shaken. 

“I beg your forgiveness,” she muttered to Solas, then turned to me. “And your blessing! I am but a humble servant!” My frown returned, now more confused than ever. My blessing? What could that possibly mean? “You are back in Haven, my lady,” she continued, answering my earlier question. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the past three days!” 

I looked down to my palm again, belatedly realizing that it no longer hurt. The glow seemed fainter as well, less piercing. I was pondering the possibility of now being allowed to leave, when I processed her last comment. 

Three days? 

Well, they hadn’t executed me; I supposed that was something. Perhaps my efforts had earned me some leniency. Or perhaps they were waiting to see if I would have the decency to die on my own. I looked back up. Solas was waiting quietly, hands clasped behind him, looking almost casual. Sunlight streamed inside from the doorway behind him, casting his shadow on the brightly colored rug that covered the dirt floor. The girl was bent over, gathering the spilled objects from the crate she’d dropped upon seeing me wake - the thud I’d heard a moment ago. 

“So a trial happens now, I suppose?” I asked. Solas shrugged. 

“I don’t know anything about that,” the girl said, lifting herself from the ground, crate now righted and neatly re-packed. She still seemed nervous, but at least she was looking me in the eye now. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘At once!’” 

That seemed in keeping with what I’d come to know of Cassandra. It didn’t necessarily mean trouble for me yet, but it wasn’t likely to be good either. 

“And where is she?”

“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor.” She placed the crate next to the desk, out of the way, then began tentatively retreating toward the door, clearly anxious to leave. I was tempted to try to get her to stay and answer more questions, but Solas nodded and smiled at her, and she seemed to take that as dismissal. “‘At once!’ she said!” the girl repeated, almost like a warning, before she fled the cabin. You’d have thought the room was on fire. 

She left the door open. Solas remained.

“How are you feeling, Theresa?” he asked. 

“I’ve been better,” I replied. Thankfully, my headache had subsided, and the overall aching had lessened to a dull soreness. I felt weak, hungry, and slightly dizzy. On the other hand, I was alive, and the searing pain in my palm seemed to have abated for now. “But I’ve been worse too,” I amended. Solas nodded, apparently fine with this answer. He wasn’t one to pry, I recalled. 

I sat on the bed a moment, half expecting a squad of soldiers to come in and place me in shackles again. When that didn’t happen, I stood and took quick stock of my surroundings. The room didn’t look much like a prison cell; rather, it looked like someone’s home. Hopefully, no one had been displaced on my part, though looking around that certainly seemed to be the case. There were hanging furs and paintings, shelves filled with jars and books and candles, assorted barrels and even a chest, all too neatly arranged for this to be a storage room. A small desk and chair were tucked into the corner near the window. Walking over to it, I noticed several scattered papers weighed down against the errant breeze by an ornate stone carving of a dog, clearly the most expensive thing in the small cabin. 

Fereldens… I thought, rolling my eyes. 

“So, I take it I’m not under arrest?” I turned to glance at Solas over my shoulder. 

“Not at the moment, though I would be lying if I didn’t confess to some uncertainty as to whether that continues.” 

I sniffed in amusement. We agreed on that, certainly. 

Turning back to the desk, I scanned the notes briefly and realized that they were about me. Someone had been keeping tabs on me while I slept, caring for me. Apparently, my survival had been a near thing. I shuddered, though that may have been from the mountain wind slithering in through the open door, a not so gentle reminder that I was expected elsewhere. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t keep Cassandra waiting.” 

“She’s not known for her patience,” Solas agreed with the hint of a wry smirk. He remained where he was. 

“You’re meant to escort me.” 

“I’m afraid so.” He had the grace to sound apologetic. 

“Why you?” I asked. His brows rose in response, and I winced, realizing the question had sounded harsher than intended. “I mean, why not a templar?” 

“Ah, I suppose my efforts to keep you alive for the second time now have earned me enough trust to play turnkey. Rest assured, they are keeping a close eye on this cabin.” 

“How long before they come storming in demanding the demons depart our bodies or die?” I asked in jest. It earned a chuckle from Solas. 

“Should be any moment now.” 

I laughed, the first time in a while. However, another shiver brought my attention to a new problem; I was in the mountains and only just noticed I was bereft of all but my undershirt and hose. Luckily, the crate the elf had brought was full of warm clothes. I rifled through the folds, quickly deciding on a warm woolen tunic and some thick canvas trousers that fit snugly around my legs. A pair of fur-lined boots also looked like they would fit, and would cover my lower legs. Using a simple leather thong, I tied my tangled mass of hair out of my face and into a low horsetail. I scanned the room in vain for a staff. Unsurprisingly, none were present. That would have been too much to hope for. 

As I dressed, a new thought occurred to me. “Has the village been mistreating that girl?” 

Solas, who had turned politely to face away while I dressed - a fact I found rather endearing, considering we had been talking face to face only moments ago - cocked his head slightly. 

“The elf? Not that I know of,” he said. “Why do you ask?” 

“She seemed pretty skittish around me.” 

“Ah, that’s… something else.” 

“The mark?” 

Solas hesitated before answering. “Yes.” 

I pondered that as I finished lacing my boots. “You told her I’m not like the others.” 

“Oh, that.” An edge of bitterness flavored his voice. “She came here as a ‘kind donation’ from a Ferelden nobleman.” I could hear his snarl as it twisted itself around the words. 

“Donation?” I asked, incredulous. The word was rather innocuous for all it implied. 

“Her story is not mine to tell,” he said. “But suffice to say, it is not a happy one. I am glad the advisors granted her full employment status, with pay. They seemed to find the entire notion as distasteful as I.” 

“Advisors?” 

“Forgive me, I forget how much has happened since…” He stopped himself then. “Well, you will see soon enough. Ready to go?” 

I almost pressed him further, but it would only delay us. He’d been more forthcoming than most so far, and I didn’t wish to push my luck with his good graces. 

“Yes.” I moved forward, then, hesitating, turned back to the crate. After a moment’s pause, I reached for a set of knitted, fingerless gloves, and pulled them on as well. As I’d hoped, the mark’s light was at least partially diminished by the thick material, if not wholly hidden. I sighed with resignation.

Well, at least I was warm now. 

“Let’s go,” I said. 

Together, we walked through the open door. Whatever I had been expecting, I was wholly unprepared for the sight of saluting soldiers and what appeared to be the entire village gathered outside. They all fell silent when I stepped from the tiny cabin, gawking at me, pointing with hushed whispers. I stood frozen in momentary panic, but neither the soldiers nor the villagers made any moves toward me. The Chantry’s vaulted roof was visible over the meager buildings on the path ahead. Solas stood beside me, waiting. 

Well then. 

With Solas as my escort, I started down the path. The crowd quickly parted before us. I expected looks of fear or hatred, but instead saw gratitude and admiration writ in their faces. That was new. And very unsettling. Fear and hatred I was used to; this was so completely foreign that I didn’t know what to do, except quicken my pace to move past them. Everywhere I looked, soldiers were saluting me, and complete strangers were waving, smiling, or kneeling. Kneeling. And as I walked, the whispers followed. 

“---stopped the Breach---”

“---supposed to close it---”

“---lots of rifts left, little cracks in the sky---”

“---can seal those, she’s the Herald of Andraste.”

“Walk safely, Herald of Andraste.” 

“Blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste!” 

That last title was called out in more variations as we continued. I frowned, leaning closer to Solas. 

“Do they mean me?” I asked quietly. 

“Yes, it seems your efforts have earned you a new title, much to the chagrin of the Chantry.” He didn’t sound at all displeased at the notion of the Chantry’s discomfort. “Rather impressive sounding, isn’t it?” 

“This can’t be real,” I muttered. “How am I the Herald of Andraste?” 

“A desperate grasp at hope,” Solas waved dismissively upward. “There were many witnesses to your efforts in the temple ruins. And they’ve heard the rumor of a woman seen behind you in the rift where you were first discovered.” I shuddered, remembering the disjointed images from the Fade; a glowing silhouette that might have been the shape of a woman. “Many have convinced themselves that was Andraste, and you are her chosen.” 

As the path turned and my eyes were drawn upward, I paused to take in the sight. The Breach still haunted the sky above the peaks, but now it appeared to be more stable, quieter. 

“I failed,” I said, still staring. 

“Yes and no,” Solas said. “The Breach remains open, but it has stabilized. Your mark as well.” 

I flexed my left palm at his mention of the mark. He was right of course; like the Breach, it felt less hungry now. Still, it wasn’t over. The by now familiar light flickered in my periphery, and that slow dread returned to settle in the pit of my stomach. The mark hadn’t claimed my life yet, but I had to wonder when it would grow tired of waiting. 

It seemed I now existed in a curious state of limbo. Waiting to see if I would be arrested, tried, and executed. Or perhaps waiting for this infection to worm its way through my body. How long would it take to consume me completely? Why had my attempt to close the Breach failed? 

I remembered my first view of it as I exited the Chantry as Cassandra’s prisoner. It felt longer than a mere three days. Then, the villagers had leered at me. They would likely have torn me limb from limb had Cassandra not been there, her hand protectively on my shoulder, guiding me down the path to help fix the disaster they all blamed me for. Now it was Solas who guided me in the opposite direction, and the crowd that had once wanted my head now knelt in my wake. It almost beggared belief, how much my situation had changed in such a small amount of time. 

I took some small comfort from that. If they still needed me, after all, they couldn’t execute me just yet. 

We reached the Chantry, and Solas’s pace slowed to a halt. 

“Here is where I leave you,” he said. “I wish you luck.” 

I nodded my thanks to him, and with renewed confidence, I pushed open the heavy wooden doors.


	10. The Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With many questions left unanswered by their failed attempt to close the Breach, Cassandra and Leliana play the only hand left to them: the Inquisition is reborn. Unfortunately, this also leaves Theresa Trevelyan with few options, and she finds freedom pulled from her grasp once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the name of Ostwick Circle was taken from the Fateswain saga, whose Ostwick entry can be found here: 
> 
> http://dragon-age-the-fateswain-saga.wikia.com/wiki/Ostwick
> 
> Also, I know the tags list this work as being divergent from the game's canon, and some of you are likely wondering why it's just reading like a straightforward recounting of the events of the game thus far. Rest assured, the divergence is coming! The prologue, however, needed to be relatively close since many of the relationships and basic premise it sets up are still necessary for this fic. Plus, it's one of my favorite parts of the game, and all credit goes to the developers at Bioware for creating such a compelling cast of characters for us all to play with! 
> 
> After the prologue is complete with this chapter, things will start to differ more from the usual game's events, though many of them will still figure prominently later on; just not entirely in the same way or with the same context. 
> 
> With that said, please enjoy, and thanks for reading!

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The few lit torches scattered along the stone walls were a poor substitute for the bright sunshine and white snow from outside. I blinked, waiting, and took in my surroundings. Now that I wasn’t being led through here in shackles under fear of death, I was able to observe with a much different perspective. The great hall itself was not as expansive as it had felt then - having more frame of reference than one cramped stone cell adjusted my perception somewhat. Pillars separated the main throughway from the alcoves along both sides, where I saw a few small groups or pairs of women in Chantry robes alternately chatting and seeing to various tasks. One pair of sisters was lighting votives and uttering prayers, while others nearby in dusted and swept. A cleric crossed the room ahead carrying assorted papers in her arms. All were pointedly not looking at me, I noticed, though my entrance had been impossible to miss given the tremendous groan of the aging doors I’d come through. 

Muffled voices were coming from somewhere ahead, loud enough that it was clear there was a heated argument happening behind closed doors. One of the voices sounded like Cassandra. I made my way down the great hall in search of the voices, and found they were coming from the door at the far end, directly ahead. They were discussing me, I realized when I drew closer. 

“I do not believe she is guilty.” That was Cassandra. Her distinctive accent and firm, assured tone was unmistakable. She sounded distinctly displeased, though given her demeanor so far perhaps that was just her usual tone.

“The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way.” A second voice, male, vaguely familiar. That was unsurprising; since when has being of use to others ever protected mages? I considered running again, wondering whether the newly appreciative crowd would try to stop me. 

“I do not believe that.” Cassandra again. That was surprising; she trusted me. Even more surprisingly, I trusted her in return. She had promised I would be given a fair trial when she cut my bonds, before leading me into the valley toward the Breach. She had allowed me to keep the staff I’d found later to defend myself against the demons attacking from the rifts. She had protected me when it would have been easier to let me die. Weighing my odds, I realized my chances were better relying on her support against the Chantry over the untamed mountain wilderness with no food, no staff, and no idea where to go. 

Hoping I was making the right choice, I thrust open the door, ready to speak in my own defence. 

“---not for you to decide!” the man had been saying, stopped short by my entrance. I recognized him; we’d encountered him on our way to the Breach, I recalled. Another high-ranking Chantry official. Rodger? Romulus? Cassandra stood hunched over a table looking like she was trying to push it into the stone below in her frustration. A third person - Leliana, I remembered - stood beside her facing the man. All three had turned to look at me when I entered, their argument briefly forgotten. It was the man - Roderick, I now remembered - who recovered fastest. “Chain her!” he commanded to the two guards standing on either side of the door. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” 

“Disregard that,” Cassandra said with badly concealed annoyance. “And leave us.” 

Thankfully, the guards obeyed the latter, and turned to leave, closing the door behind them. Awkward silence was left in their wake.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” Roderick turned to Cassandra. He was trying to intimidate her with a cool tone and narrowed eyes, but it was hard to be imposing next to her. She easily met his gaze and squared her shoulders against him, giving him pause. I’d seen enough pissing contests between templars and Chantry officials to know Cassandra had the high ground here. She wasn’t exactly a templar, but seemed near enough. Judging by the deference the soldiers gave her, the title of Seeker carried at least as much weight, if not more. It looked like I had chosen correctly, for the moment at least. 

“The Breach is stable,” Cassandra said, unimpressed by Roderick’s display. “But it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

And already I was forgotten again. It felt just like home. Still, I hadn’t come here to stand idle and look pretty. 

“I did everything I could to close the Breach,” I said, forcing them to acknowledge my presence. “It almost killed me.” 

“Yet you live.” Roderick barely inclined his head in my direction as he addressed me. “A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.” 

Yes, how inconsiderate of me to go on living when you’ve personally decided my guilt already. I kept my face expressionless as I bit down on the inside of my cheek; a trick I learned as a child to prevent punishment for insubordination. I may have been boiling beneath the surface, but my face was a mask of neutrality. 

“Have a care, Chancellor,” Cassandra threatened, having no such qualms about letting her growing rage show. “The Breach is not the only threat we face.” 

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave,” Leliana said, stepping forward, hands clasped behind her back. As much as I would have liked to see Cassandra lay out the Chancellor, it was likely more productive that Leliana stepped in when she did. “Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others… or have allies who yet live.” She looked pointedly at the Chancellor, and he took her meaning instantly. 

“I am a suspect?” He practically sputtered with indignancy. 

“You, and many others.” 

“... But not the prisoner?” 

“I have a name,” I interjected through clenched teeth. 

“I heard the voices in the Temple,” Cassandra interjected. “The Divine called to Theresa for help.” 

Flashes from the Temple returned to mind. An aged woman garbed in splendid Chantry robes, held captive to a great shadow with eyes that held no warmth. So they had seen it too. I flexed my left hand, wondering for the hundredth time what the mark’s true purpose was, and how it related to Divine Justinia’s death. 

“So her survival, that thing on her hand… all a coincidence?” The Chancellor was still skeptical, and though I was loathe to admit it, I was in agreement.

“Providence,” Cassandra countered. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.” 

The Herald of Andraste. The villagers outside had called me that. They expected me to be, what? Some kind of prophet? A savior? My blood chilled at the prospect.

“You can’t honestly believe that I’m any kind of… chosen one?” I asked, incredulous. 

“We are all subject to the will of the Maker, whether we wish it or not,” Cassandra replied with the fervor of a believer. I recalled her title of Seeker, and was not comforted. This was a joke, a farce. It had to be. “No matter what I may believe, I cannot pretend that you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

I shook my head in futile denial, willing it to be undone. 

“The Breach remains,” Leliana said. “And your mark is our only hope of closing it.” 

All my life, I’d been made to feel that my existence was a threat, an inconvenience. I was a danger to those around me simply because of who I was. Now, suddenly, all that was reversed. My world was shifted, all that I had been taught flipped on its head. Nothing about this made sense. 

“This is not for you to decide!” Chancellor Roderick gave one last attempt to wrest control of the situation back. Cassandra wordlessly walked to the back of the room where a locked chest sat upon a table. Using a skeleton key strapped to a ring around her belt, she unlocked it, pulled an absurdly thick and heavy-looking tome from its depths, and crossed back to the table, where she slammed it down upon the table between Leliana and the Chancellor.

“You know what this is, Chancellor.” It was not a question. She continued, not waiting for a response. “A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She advanced on Roderick as he backed away, invading his space, punctuating each statement with a fierce poke to his chest. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order.” Roderick was now backed against the wall. “With or without your approval.” 

Roderick’s face was red with fury, but whatever he wanted to say, he thought better of it and instead stormed out of the room. I’d almost have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t just been arguing passionately for my arrest and execution. 

“We aren’t ready,” Leliana said to Cassandra when he was gone. “We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support.” That last part sounded like a recrimination. Cassandra sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. 

“We have no choice. We must act now,” she insisted. “With you at our side.” That was to me. I found myself on the receiving end of both women’s expectant gazes once again. Not a place I particularly liked being, considering where it tended to lead me.

“You want to start a holy war,” I said. I knew my histories well enough to know what another Inquisition would likely mean. I’d spent countless hours in Faxhold’s library, eyes straining in the dim candlelight, back and legs aching from sitting in awkward positions on uncomfortable chairs while I poured over account after account of the Exalted Marches and the foundation of the Chantry and its Templars. I had been trying to understand how things could have gone so wrong, how we could have gotten the messages so twisted. I never found any satisfying answers. 

“We are already at war,” Cassandra said. “You are already involved. Its mark is upon you. As to whether the war is holy…“ she shook her head. “That depends on what we discover.” 

They were right of course. We had gotten no closer to discovering how the Breach had been created in the first place, and as long as it was still open, I couldn’t just walk away from this. Still, I needed to ask. 

“And if I refuse?” 

Both women looked at each other. Whatever passed between them was left unspoken, but Cassandra gave a curt nod. They’d been expecting that question. 

“You can go, if you wish,” Leliana said. I was wary enough to wait for the “but” that she left out, but it was Cassandra who finished the thought. 

“You should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty. The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us.” Ah, there it was. The words were not spoken without sympathy, yet I knew an ultimatum when I heard one. “It will not be easy if you stay, but you cannot pretend this has not changed you.” 

She was right, I had to admit. Before all this started, I was alone and afraid. A lifetime of imprisonment and abuse had left me without trust or allies. The few friendships I’d had came with strings attached, and my only family connections were severed the day I was sent away to the Circle. Most of those I’d known growing up had been killed when Faxhold was purged, and the few who survived that had likely been in the temple during the explosion. Now, everything I was had been stripped away, replaced with a burden of responsibility I’d never wanted. The rage I’d felt all my life trapped in a fortress for others’ comfort was nothing compared to the fear I felt when I looked up at the sky and beheld the Breach for the first time. The injustices I’d suffered paled in comparison to the pain that coursed through my body when the mark in my hand flared. I had a bigger threat to face, and whether I liked it or not, I seemed to be the only one capable of fixing things. 

I still had no memories of the event itself, and was no closer to finding out how I had survived, or how I was connected to all this. I would never find those answers if I ran away now. I looked to the two women before me, patiently awaiting my response, already confident they knew what it would be. I realized ruefully that I knew as well. They would use me, I knew. I would be a figurehead, a public idol that they would shove in front of rifts as proof that their cause was righteous. They would use me as a puppet, and in return, they would ensure that the Chantry could not use me as a scapegoat. It sounded depressingly similar to the bargain offered to every mage brought to a Circle: serve their needs and obey their rules, in exchange for a wall between us and the angry mob. It was a choice that was no choice at all. 

I sighed. Leliana smiled, seeing my defeat writ on my face. I would have to be wary of her; somehow I suspected her hand orchestrating this trap. 

“Help us fix this, before it’s too late.” Cassandra stepped forward and extended her hand to me. It seemed a genuine attempt at fellowship. I was stuck, and they knew it, but they were at least willing to pretend out of respect. Something else I wasn’t used to receiving. Today was a day of many firsts. 

I reached out and shook Cassandra’s hand. 

So much for freedom.


End file.
